


The White Rose

by Flossity99



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action & Romance, Adventure & Romance, Awkward Romance, Banter, Companions, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fifth Blight (Dragon Age), Haven (Dragon Age), Kinloch Hold (Dragon Age), Kirkwall (Dragon Age), M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Abuse, Past Drug Use, Past Relationship(s), Skyhold (Dragon Age), Slow Burn, Templars (Dragon Age), The Breach (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:49:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23891878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flossity99/pseuds/Flossity99
Summary: Andraea Trevelyan's world has been plunged into chaos. Branded a dangerous heretic. Reverred as Andraste's Herald. Admired as the Inquistor that saves Thedas from a would-be god. How does she fare with her new companions?Mostly exposition, party banter and a slow-burn romance between our inquisitor and her commander with a new backstory for Quizzie. Also romance between Dorian and Bull because they are the cutest gay uncles ever and I wanted to explore the flirtation between Blackwall and Josephine more. Enjoy!Comments are encouraged, I like to know how I'm doing and feed off my audience!
Relationships: Blackwall/Josephine Montilyet, Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. The Inquisition is Born

Andraea Trevelyan awoke in a hazy blur of comfortable pressure on her back, and persistent aching pain radiating from her left palm up to her shoulder. The sweet reprieve of sleep was difficult to turn away from, but she knew she should open her eyes, just to make sure she was really alive as her pain suggested. Her eyes blinked open to the slanted wooden roof of a hut. The last thing she remembered she was at the temple of sacred ashes, the Breach. Her left hand raised to her face. The mark was still there, but it was no longer glowing and sparking. Rather it shimmered hypnotically. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, her left arm complaining and the warm sheets falling to her hips. The cold draft caused her to sit upright and all thought of sleep vanished. Rubbing her arms, she felt cloth; someone had removed her armour and surcoat. Neither appeared to be in the room. Wanting more layers, she got up, the cold flagstone instantly numbing her toes. As she made to pick up the pair of boots by her bed, a frigid draft and a clatter made her head snap up. An elven girl squealed, a look of mortification plastered on her face as she dropped to her knees and started bowing! Andraea blinked, nonplussed.

“I didn’t know you were awake; I swear!” She’d dropped a crate of… something. Andraea bent down and picked up the box, putting it on the bed.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to- um, where am I exactly? Doesn’t look like another prison. What about the Breach?”

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.” The elven girl kept her eyes glued to the floor. “You are back in Haven, my lady.” That explained the temperature. “They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.” The strange brand shimmered at its mention. It drew the eye of the elf who finally looked up. “It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!” Three days? No wonder she felt groggy.

“So… they’re pleased? I’m not wanted for trial?” It would explain the lack of shackles and the considerable improvement in her accommodation since she last woke up in Haven. The elven girl rose to her feet and started backing away.

“I don’t know anything about that. I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve wakened. She said, ‘at once.’”

“And where is Cassandra?”

“In the chantry, with the lord chancellor. ‘At once’ she said.” The poor girl suddenly looked even more flustered, and promptly ran out of the door. Understandable if Cassandra was breathing down her neck. Andraea regretted she didn’t ask her name. She would have to find her later and thank her. Maybe buy her a drink. Sighing, Andraea leant down and finally pulled on the boots before she lost a couple of toes to frostbite. She wiggled them in the fur lining just to make sure she still could. Still chilled, she looked around for a coat. She found one in the trunk at the foot of the bed, simple but nicely padded and warm. She supposed she should go find Cassandra before the Seeker broke down her door. Mustering her will, Andraea gripped the handle of the door and stepped out to Haven. She was not sure what she was expecting, but it was not having the entirety of Haven freeze at her appearance, the silence absolute. She wrapped the coat tightly around her, folding her arms as she braved the walk towards the chantry, seemingly triple the distance it should be now that the way was lined with pilgrims, refugees, and soldiers. The uncomfortable silence was replaced with equally uncomfortable muttering.

“That’s her. That’s the Herald of Andraste.” Came one murmur.

“They said when she came out of the Fade, Andraste herself was watching over her.” Another in reply. Andraea continued to walk, up the steps towards the Chantry, the crowd funnelling her down a particular route. What were they talking about, the ‘Herald of Andraste’?

“That’s her. She stopped the Breach from getting any bigger.” They were baying for her blood not three days ago, demanding justice for a crime she didn’t commit. She couldn’t really blame them; they were scared with nothing else to blame. At least she could now put to rest that small part of her that considered she might have done it, even without her memories of the Conclave. The vision showed her intervening a shadow’s attack on Divine Justinia. It was a greater relief than she had expected, despite not knowing anything about the real culprit. She was deep in thought; she didn’t realise she’d reached Haven’s chantry doors until she heard the wood creak. Two soldiers were holding them open for her, their heads bowed.

“Uh… thank you.” She nodded to them and stepped through. The warmth was welcome. Andraea didn’t normally mind the cold, but then she was normally in full armour and running around hunting or doing a job. The doors closed behind her and she felt a strange sense of being trapped. To think there was a time when a chantry such as this would have given her comfort in a time like this, as it did to so many others. She could hear voices coming from the room straight ahead. Cassandra’s definitive voice carrying across the empty hall.

“I do not believe that.”

“That is not for you to decide.” The chancellor’s voice responded, equally adamant. “Your duty is to serve the Chantry.” Andraea halted her approach to the door a foot or so from it. How many times had she heard those words or similar in her life? Her dislike for the chancellor increased just a bit.

“My duty is to serve the principles on which the chantry was founded, chancellor. As is yours.” And Cassandra’s words spoke to Andraea and gave her ability to move her legs again, opening the door. Cassandra was leaning over the large table in the centre of the room, Leliana standing on her left and the chancellor on her right.

“Chain her! I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.” He barked at the two templars stationed at the door. Andraea tensed.

“Disregard that and leave us.” Cassandra intervened. The templars saluted and did as ordered, leaving the four of them alone.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.” Cassandra walked up to the chancellor, a look of dislike.

“The Breach is stable, but still a threat. I will not ignore it.” Sensing that Cassandra may punch the chancellor in the face, Andraea stepped forward.

“I did everything I could to seal the Breach. I could try again but it nearly killed me before.”

“And yet you live. A convenient result for you is it not? You have done plenty. Your actions will be taken into account by the new divine.” The chancellor snapped. The dislike towards him increased again. Andraea sympathised with Cassandra for wanting to punch him.

“Have a care, Chancellor. The Breach is not the only threat we face.” The Seeker spoke through her teeth. It soothed Andraea to see Cassandra defending her so decisively. Leliana stepped forward too.

“Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live.” She glared at the Chancellor, who looked aghast at the veiled accusations.

“ _I_ am a suspect!?”

“You. And many others.” Her expression did not waver.

“But _not_ the prisoner.” He spat.

“I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called to her for help.”

“So, her survival, that _thing_ on her hand – all a coincidence?” The chancellor was most unconvinced, derisively glancing at the mark and folding his arms expectantly.

“Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.” That didn’t sit quite right with Andraea. The Maker was never one to attend to his creation in her experience. Yet it was surely too much of a coincidence for it to be accidental.

“’You’ve changed your mind about me wanting me dead? You know I’m not some chosen one, right?”

“You are exactly what we needed when we needed it. I was wrong about you. Perhaps I still am. But no matter who you are and what you believe, we are all subject to the will of the Maker. Whether we wish it or not.” She turned away to one of the tables at the back as Leliana addressed Andraea.

“The Breach remains. And your mark is still our only hope of closing it.”

“This is not for you to decide.” The chancellor was sulking where he stood, arms folded, and face scrunched up distastefully. Cassandra returned, holding a leather bound and guilted book, slamming it on the table.

“Do you know what this is, Chancellor? A writ from the Divine granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” She walked toward the Chancellor, pursuing him as he backed away. “We will close the Breach; we will find those responsible and we will restore order with or without your approval.” She glowered at the Chancellor who quailed before leaving hurriedly.

“This is the Divine’s directive. Rebuild the Inquisition of old, find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren’t ready. We have no leader. No numbers. And now, no Chantry support.” Leliana explained as Cassandra returned to the table once more.

“But we have no choice. We must act now. With you at our side.” Andraea was taken aback as the two women looked to her.

“What _is_ the Inquisition of old exactly?” She asked, figuring she should at least know what she was a part of. Leliana provided an explanation.

“It preceded the Chantry. People who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad.”

“After, they laid down their banner and formed the Templar order. But the Templars have lost their way.” Andraea could agree with that wholeheartedly. “We need those who can do what must be done, united under one single banner once more.”

“But… aren’t you still part of the Chantry?” Cassandra scoffed.

“Is that what you see?”

“The Chantry will take time to find a new Divine. And then it will wait for her direction.”

“But _we_ cannot wait. So many grand clerics died at the conclave. No. We are on our own. Perhaps forever.” She may not have been a traditional Andrastian for many years but going blatantly against the Chantry, openly defying the biggest influence in Thedas? It did not sit well with Andraea.

“You’re trying to start a Holy war.”

“We are already at war. You are already involved. Its mark is upon you. As to whether or not this war is holy, that depends on what we discover.” She could not argue with the Seeker. She wasn’t just involved; she was in the centre of it all. She wouldn’t be able to continue her undisturbed travels and low profile. She was the one with the mark that could fix the sky. Maybe. How many times had she dreamed of doing something so important to the world? Was her purpose in life not to help people in need? If all of Thedas needed help, she would answer the call.

“If you’re truly trying to restore order-”

“That is the plan.” Leliana interjected quickly.

“Help us fix this, before it’s too late.” Cassandra held her hand out to Andraea.

“Well, it’s not like I was ever one to sit at the side-lines.” Andraea smiled, grasping Cassandra’s hand firmly and shook, promising her service to the Inquisition. Cassandra smirked approvingly and let go.

“We do not know what we will face in the months to come. As a show of good faith, and perhaps as an apology for your treatment previously, I have instructed Harritt, our Blacksmith, to forge new armour for you. He has the remains of your old clothing, but it is damaged. He should have your measurements from them, though you will need to go and have any adjustments made.” Cassandra started to lay out maps and markers on the table as she spoke.

“It will not do to have the Herald of Andraste’s armour falling off in battle.” Leliana sniggered, guiding Andraea out of the room and walking with her through the Chantry.

“That name again. What does it mean? I’m not a chosen one or anything.”

“Can you say that for certain? You said you have lost your memories of the Conclave, who is to say that is not because of intervention? When you fell out of the Fade, people saw a woman behind you, myself included. Even you said you recall a woman. It is believed that woman was Andraste, delivering you to us in our hour of need. Whether you believe you are chosen or not, the people will look to you as a sign the Maker has not abandoned us. It will be vital to the success of the Inquisition that we spread this rumour and you play the part with a modest dignity.” Leliana explained, gesturing to the Chantry symbol printed on the banners hanging along the walls.

“No pressure then.” Andraea looked at the sun emblem, once more so important in her life. She could feel butterflies starting to swarm in her gut, the weight of what she’d signed up for and the uncertainty of the power she was wielding having finally begun settling in. She was suddenly feeling too warm as her head swam with implications and was grateful as the Chantry doors opened before them and cold air washed over her.

“Your completed armour will be waiting for you with Harritt, just outside the gates. I would advise that is your first task to take care of. As I said, it would not do for your armour to slip in battle.” Leliana bowed her head and wandered to the storage tents in front of the Chantry. Andraea reciprocated before she took the path to the left. The people of Haven no longer lined the way, having gone back to their respective duties, but they still looked and bowed at her. She politely waved and nodded to them, walking past the tavern where she spotted Solas, the elven mage she’d fought alongside and who aided her in controlling the mark.

“Ah, you have awakened I see. And walking about. That is good. I had feared the energy expended stabilising the Breach was too much for you. How are you feeling?”

“Um… Sore.” She absent-mindedly stroked her left arm. Solas chuckled.

“Aha, yes, that is unsurprising considering the amount of force generated by the backlash. You did in fact fracture your radius bone and three fingers as well as dislocating your shoulder. Luckily for you, we have many skilled healers here, I among them. The breaks are mended but require cautious exercise. I believe the Commander would be able to assist you.”

“Thank you, Solas. Not just for sparing me weeks of painful healing.” She smiled and nodded to him, taking her leave once he returned the gesture. She would have to thank him properly at another time. And the healers too. Mending bones quickly was no easy feat and would have taken a lot of materials. Walking on she could see the hut she had woken up in straight ahead, and to the left some stairs leading to the front gates. As she walked through the frigid air, starting to shiver again, she heard a familiar Free Marcher accent shout to her.

“Hey, look who’s finally up and about!” She turned to see Varric sitting on a log and fiddling with his crossbow, Bianca. He waved to her with a welcoming smile and she approached, arms now folded to keep her coat closed against the wind.

“Hey, Varric. What are you doing?”

“Oh this? Just tuning up and calibrating. A lady like Bianca needs a delicate hand and close attention.” He pats the side of the crossbow and a bolt fires into the tavern wall. “Whoops. Uh you didn’t see that. Eheh.” He gently placed Bianca down on a cloth mat on the ground.

“Needy lady, isn’t she?” Andraea joked, walking over to pull the bolt from the wood and returning it to the dwarf.

“Ah it’s totally worth it for a unique beauty like her.” He sheepishly took the bolt and quickly hid it in his jacket, looking around to make sure no one saw. “So, what’s the illustrious Herald of Andraste doing freezing her ass off with a bunch of heretics?”

“I could ask the same of a famous author who is no longer prisoner to said bunch of heretics.” He laughed and held up his hands.

“Alright, alright. So, you’ve read my books, have you?” There was a devious little glint in his eyes.

“One or two…” Andraea replied coyly.

“What did you think? The opinion of such a controversial symbol of faith and rebellion would make them sell like hot cakes I’m sure.”

“Oh, look at the time, I need to be going, Varric. Lovely talking with you.” She hurriedly stood back, turning and walking toward the stairs. Varric laughed and shouted after her,

“You can’t hide from me forever, Herald!” Andraea couldn’t help but smile. Varric was easy to talk to and funny. Relaxed. It eased the butterflies in her stomach as she descended to the big oak doors of Haven. Soldiers bowed, saluted, and then opened the doors for her. She hadn’t had the chance to appreciate the beauty of the land around Haven the last time she had ventured into it. The imminent threat of the Breach was just slightly distracting. But now she saw how the snow glittered around them, how the lake in front of her was frozen so solidly and perfectly it looked like glass. Even the Breach, casting its green light across the sky, added to the aesthetic. To the right she saw tents pitched, no doubt for the soldiers, and training dummies occupied by recruits who weren’t sparring with each other. With them she saw the furry shoulders of the Commander she had met on her way to the Breach. Cullen if she remembers correctly, but she did only meet him briefly in a moment of turmoil. She did remember how he rushed to help his injured men though, taking their weight, ensuring they would escape safely. It was a quality in leaders that she admired, and unfortunately was all too rare these days. He looked busy, barking instructions to the green recruits he was currently working with, so she didn’t go over to introduce herself properly. Most of these men and women had never even held a sword let alone fought demons with one. It was a difficult task to train them, but one the commander had taken to quite well from what Andraea could tell. Looking to the left she saw the smithy, smoke billowing from the chimney of the forge and made her way over. She approached the man hammering away at what she assumed would be an axe head.

“Um, Harritt?” He looked up and she was relieved she’d found the right man.

“Ah, Herald. I’m guessing you’re here for your new armour. Think I got the measurements correct but that’s why you’re here isn’t it. You go into the hut and you’ll find it all there. Try it on and show me and we’ll see where that leaves us.” He nodded his head to the hut next to the forge. It was a relief to find someone not tripping over pleasantries when talking to her. She went as she was bid and found a gleaming set of freshly forged armour. She was no connoisseur of metalwork but Harritt had made the iron gleam like silverite while it held strong and unmoving. She shrugged off her coat, immediately feeling the cold hit her and hurried to buckle the armour onto her broad frame. It fit like a glove. As well as any Orlesian tailor would the empress’s gown. The breastplate was practical, covering her chest with interlocking plates down her stomach for mobility as well as protection. So many armouries favoured making feminine armour aesthetically pleasing, completely defeating the point of shielding the body from sharp objects. Seduction was not a fool proof tactic and certainly not one Andraea was proficient in. No, Harritt was not biased in his craft, she could see that plainly. He made his wares to do what they were made to do. Armour protects. Weapons wound. A horseshoe lasts. There was no chainmail, nor a full suit of armour, but Andraea could forgive this easily. Resources were valuable in these early days: better to give two people moderate protection rather than one absolute protection. Besides, it had been a long time since Andraea had worn a full suit and chainmail, so long had she travelled with similar protection to what she was trying on now. She suspected Harritt took that into account when he looked over her old things. She finished fastening the bracers and flexed her muscles, rolling her shoulders. She could feel the roughness of unworn leather and knew even with the cloth of her tunic providing a barrier, she would have her share of chafing and blisters before the armour was properly broken in, but for now it fit well, it allowed her to move, and it wasn’t crushingly heavy. She exited the hut and returned to the forge, arms open for presentation and adding a little twirl.

“What do you think?” She asked the blacksmith. He set down his hammer and put the axe head at the edge of the hearth, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Ah I’d be biased, it’s my own work. Besides, it’s not what I think, what do you think, my lady?” It had been an even longer time since anyone had called her ‘my lady’.

“I think we have an excellent blacksmith on our side, Master Harritt.” He chuckled.

“Just Harritt will do, my lady. Not a master of anything but my forge.”

“Alright, Harritt. Well the armour is warm and sturdy. Just what I need. It fits well and I can move in it easily.” Harritt circled her, looking at the straps and joints, checking gaps and weak points.

“I’ve managed to impress myself with this one. Don’t think I’ve ever got someone’s measurements this right without actually measuring them. If you want to soften up the leather quicker, there’s a solution you can make out of embrium, blood lotus and spindleweed that does the trick nicely if you apply it before you sleep and leave it overnight. Do that for about a week and that leather will feel like you’ve been wearing it for years, without the damage. Or you could just piss on it, that works too.” He seemed to realise what he’d said and held his hand up, apologising. “Ah I’m sorry, my lady, forgive my crudeness!” But Andraea just laughed. It seemed to put Harritt at ease.

“Honestly, between everyone yelling curses and now too scared to even look at me, it’s a relief to hear someone talk to me normally. I don’t want anyone walking on eggshells around me.”

“Noted, my lady. Now, if you have the resources, I can forge upgrades and additions to your armour. At the moment all of Haven’s resources have to be rationed so it’ll have to come out of your own findings. For the time being.”

“Understood, Harritt. It really is excellent work.” She patted his shoulder and nodded before taking her leave. Andraea figured she should learn her surroundings. She knew what lay up the road and across the bridge, but across the lake was a mystery. She wasn’t silly enough to walk across the frozen water, so she headed back towards the gate and followed the road past it. She saw the commander again, now discussing something with another officer, holding a clipboard while his recruits continued their drills. The path forked ahead, one road leading up into the mountains, the other diverting to the right into the trees, and most likely around the lake so that was the one she followed. She saw plenty of elfroot amidst the trees and along the path and couldn’t help but gather it. Elfroot was extremely useful, particularly for its medical properties. It was the least she could do for the healers and Solas to restock their supplies. Not to mention it smelled amazing to her. Similar to mint but less potent and with a sweeter, floral aroma and an underlying scent of soil. It was one of her favourite smells. She tried to pick only the best leaves, knowing she had no way of carrying too much, so worked her way through the trees quicker than she would have if she was stocking up in bulk. And she found a cabin, deserted for some time by the looks of it. Outside were crates, nets and cages all stacked against the wooden wall. Andraea gathered this was once a fisherman’s hut, judging by the nets and cages, and no wonder it was abandoned, what with the lake frozen over so completely. Still, she knocked before entering the hut. It was spacious inside, room for at least a dozen bedrolls and Andraea was sure Haven could use the lodging for when more refugees inevitably came. She looked around quickly, just to make sure it wasn’t left alone for a reason and found a stack of notes strewn across a desk, detailing some medical procedures and concoctions she’d never heard of, or thought of, but now that she saw them written down with diagrams, they seemed like such simple and effective treatments. Another thing to bring to the healers, and Solas would likely find it interesting too. She dropped the elfroot leaves into a small crate, found a slat of wood to make a slim compartment for the papers, which she gathered up neatly and filed. With one last look around confirming nothing else was worth bringing back, she took the crate and headed back outside, where she started harvesting more elfroot now that she had a container for it all.

It was only when she noticed how the shadows of the trees had become so long that she realised how much time she had spent there. Even the nugs had stopped running around. She swore under her breath, suddenly noticing how cold it was getting and quickly got up, dusting off the snow and lifting the crate under her arm. It held more elfroot than she thought it would and had actually gained a decent weight. It didn’t take long to find her way back to the walls of Haven and the trip was a lot shorter gong back. The recruits were sat around campfires, settling down for their evening meal. The commander wasn’t among them. Nor was he stood with the officers. Andraea assumed he would be in his own quarters, a hut like hers or perhaps in the Chantry? Her theory was dashed when not ten feet in front of her, he stepped out of the tent closest to the gates and turned into Haven’s boundaries, the soldiers opening the gate for him. She followed, but only because she was already going that way. She nodded to the soldiers, apologising that they had almost closed the gate only to open it again. When she reached the top of the first set of steps, she couldn’t see the commander anymore. It was rather dark by that point. Focusing on her task at hand, she ventured up the second flight of stairs and found Varric exactly where he was before but with a campfire and a bowl of stew.

“Ah, Herald! There you are. New gear, very nice.” He solidified his approval with a thumbs up. “Oh, the Seeker wanted to see you in the Chantry.”

“Am I in trouble?” Varric just laughed.

“No, no. Well I don’t _think_ you are. Cassandra never smiles so it’s hard to tell. Still, better get your ass up there before you really are in trouble.” He smirked and jerked his head in the direction of the Chantry. Andraea continued towards the huts where she knew Solas and the healers to be, a new sense of urgency in her steps. She had already been on the receiving end of Cassandra’s anger once and she was not keen to repeat that experience. Solas was not around but she saw lights on in the healers’ hut and knocked. A young man in healer’s robes answered the door and she held out the crate, his expression one of bewilderment.

“A thank you for mending my arm so quickly. I hope it aids you.” And with that, she bowed her head and hurried off. As she approached the chantry, Andraea noticed a new banner draped above the door. Streams of light radiating from an eye with a sword through it. A visual representation of the constellation Visus, from which the heraldry of the Templars and the Seekers had been taken. The Seekers claimed the watchful eye while the Templars kept the sword. She hated how all those books she was made to read stuck in her head. The beams of light likely represented the star that appeared in the constellation after Andraste’s death. It looked eerie, fluttering in the dark. Even embroidered, she felt like the eye was always looking at her.

“There you are.” She tore her eyes form the symbol towards Cassandra who had just exited the doors and called to her. She didn’t look angry, but as Varric had said, she wasn’t smiling, though she beckoned and stood aside to allow Andraea entry. As she walked past the seeker, she spotted a notice nailed onto the other door with that same eye stamped onto it. But she didn’t linger to read it.

It was always so quiet in chantries. Andraea had never liked that. While she respected the need for peace and quiet, something about chantry silence was so suffocating, so absolute. She felt like she was doing wrong by making her armour clink as she walked towards the room at the end of the hall, every sound magnified in the empty space. “Does it trouble you?” Cassandra asked, Andraea had absent-mindedly been staring at the mark.

“It doesn’t hurt or anything. I just wish I knew what it was. Or how I got it.”

“What’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You’ve given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed, provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.”

“Sure, why not? What harm could there be in powering up something we barely understand?” Andraea joked. And Cassandra almost smiled.

“Hold onto that sense of humour.” The seeker pushed open the door and the two were greeted by Leliana, Commander Cullen, and a dark-skinned woman Andraea had not yet met. “You’ve met Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisitions forces.”

“It was only for a moment on the field. I am pleased you survived.” His voice was surprisingly gentle compared to what she’d heard outside. But then he wasn’t shouting at her, Andraea reminded herself.

“You and me both.” It slipped out before she even thought, and she smiled nervously. She had no idea how professional these people expected her to be. The commander had his own smile briefly tug the corners of his mouth.

“This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

“My lady, Herald. You’re taller than I expected.” The woman spoke with an accent Andraea recognised as Antivan. She nodded politely and Andraea returned the gesture. She’d nodded more in the past day than she had done since before the Blight and her days with the Chantry.

“And of course, you know Sister Leliana.”

“My position here involves a degree of-”

“She is our spymaster” Cassandra interrupted.

“Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra.” Leliana quirked an eyebrow exasperatedly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

“I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good.”

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help.” Leliana finished, glancing at Cassandra as she had her little revenge.

“I still disagree.” Cullen spoke up. “The Templars could serve just as well.” Neither idea thrilled Andraea, being surrounded by Templars or apostates, but at least mages could be reasoned with and had no vows restricting them. Besides, the Templars were tied too closely to the Chantry for them to accept the request of the heretical Inquisition.

“We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark-”

“Could destroy us all. Templars could supress the Breach, weaken it, so-”

“Pure speculation.” Leliana snorted. Andraea knew it would be possible with enough Templars, she’d seen enough examples of how strong Templar abilities could be when combined. All the same, she was not convinced the Templars would heed the call for aid. Not without the Chantry’s blessing.

“ _I_ was a Templar. I know what they’re capable of.” His voice lowered and his eyes darkened. Andraea felt a knot in her stomach jump to her throat. He was a Templar? _Was_? Lady Montilyet interjected to cease the circular argument she could see restarting.

“Unfortunately, neither group will speak to us yet. The Chantry had denounced the Inquisition, and you specifically.” She pointed her quill at Andraea.

“That didn’t take long.”

“Shouldn’t they be busy arguing over who’s going to become Divine?” Cullen snarled. His gentler demeanour seemed to have vanished at the dispute of mages and Templars. Andraea wasn’t surprised, it would be a sore subject what with everything that’s happened. Josephine ignored him, opting not to bait him into a fouler mood. Already proving to be a diplomat with at least commons sense.

“Some are calling you the ‘Herald of Andraste.’”

“Yes, I’ve heard.” Andraea replied dryly, already irked by the title.

“That frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we, heretics for harbouring you.”

“Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt.” Cassandra scowled as Josephine continued.

“It limits out options. Approach the mages or the Templars for help is currently out of the question.” She scratched a note on her clipboard. Andraea felt her patience thin.

“That name _again_? Just how am _I_ the Herald of Andraste? I’m nobody!”

“People saw what you did at the Temple of Scared Ashes, how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. And as we’ve explained, they believe that was Andraste.”

“Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading-” Leliana started.

“Which we have not.” Cassandra added bluntly. Leliana gave her another look of disapproval.

“The point is _everyone_ is talking about you.”

“It’s quite the title, isn’t it? How do you feel about that?” Cullen’s gentle manner had returned. He was the first person to actually ask Andraea how she was feeling about any of it.

“It’s… a little unsettling.” He snorted a short laugh.

“I’m sure the Chantry would agree.” Andraea sensed a kindred spirit in the commander. His way of diffusing her tension reminded her of time spent in barracks.

“People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you’re that sign.” Leliana insisted.

“And to others, a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong.” Josephine finished. It made Andraea uncomfortable, the way they all finished each other’s sentences. Maybe because she was the new girl again and out of the loop?

“So, what if I wasn’t with the Inquisition?”

“Let’s be honest, they would have censored us no matter what.” Cullen answered dryly.

“And you not being here isn’t an option.” Cassandra mumbled, folding her arms.

“There is something you can do. A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

“Why would someone from the Chantry want to speak to a declared heretic?”

“I understand she is a reasonable sort, perhaps she does not agree with her sisters? You will find her tending to the wounded of both the rebel mages and the Templars as well as civilians caught in the crossfire, in the Hinterlands.” Leliana explained. Andraea trusted the spymaster’s information and allies would be invaluable. And it would be nice to be travelling in the wilderness again.

“I’ll see what she has to say.”

“Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you’re there.” Cullen suggested. Andraea looked puzzled.

“We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley. And you’re better suited than anyone to recruit them. I believe there is a Horsemaster Dennet living near Redcliffe, who would be a most beneficial ally.” Josephine clarified and Andraea nodded I agreement.

“In the meantime, let’s think of other options. I won’t leave this all to the Herald.” She suppressed a groan as Cassandra used the heavy title. “If there are no further matters to be discussed tonight, I suggest we all get a good night’s rest. We have a long and difficult path ahead of us.” With that, Cassandra lead the way out of the room, followed by Leliana. Josephine got to the door at the same time as Andraea, who let her through first. The three women turned left into a side room and said their goodnights. She’d completely forgotten about the commander until she reached the chantry doors and he slid in front of her, opening the door for her.

“I’m quite capable of opening doors, commander.” She looked amused at him.

“I’ve no doubts on that, Herald. However, it is polite courtesy.” He gestured her through, and she did as he bade. The sky was inky black outside. “Allow me to walk with you, Herald?”

“Only if you stop calling me Herald, commander.” He chuckled.

“Forgive me, my lady.”

“Nope, not that either.”

“Ah I had hoped to make it through this evening without you finding out.” He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I regret, my lady, I was not informed of your name. Indeed, none of us know your name. And by this point we didn’t want to admit it. We had hoped it would come up in conversation before you found out.” He seemed very embarrassed by it and looked very surprised when Andraea laughed.

“Well I suppose questioning me about the giant glowing hole in the sky was more important than, ‘what’s your name?’ so I’ll let it slide. This once.” Her good humour seemed to ease him.

“So?”

“So…. What?”

“Maker’s breath, what is your name?” He sounded half exasperated, half amused.

“Oh, right! Eheh…” She scratched her temple, abashed. “Call me Andraea. Or Andy if you prefer. At this point I’ll settle for ‘Hey you’ instead of Herald.”

“Alright.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, you, allow me to walk with you?”

“A military commander with a sense of humour? You are a rarity.” She jested as they started walking along the path to the right.

“Don’t tell my recruits.” He chuckled. “So, Andraea, where are you from?”

“Ostwick originally, but I’ve spent most of my life in Ferelden.”

“That explains your accent. I would have never guessed you were a Free Marcher. Varric should be pleased. We’ve spoken, largely at Varric’s insistence. Apparently, I spend too much time with a serious expression on my face and it’s bad for my health.” The commander scoffed.

“Well they do say frowning gives you wrinkles.”

“Somehow I think I’ll survive that much. Whereabouts in Ferelden did you live?”

“Oh, nowhere specific. Before the Blight, I was in Lothering. Then there was no Lothering. I wandered the countryside, avoiding towns and stopping bandits where I could and helping refugees, elves, anyone who needed it really. Then the Blight ended. Once my family heard I was alive, they brought me back to Ostwick. I stayed for a few years then went back to travelling around. And, more or less, here I am.” Her tone was not weighed down by the events that transpired. Nonetheless, Cullen seemed uncomfortable.

“I apologise, Andraea. I did not mean to open old wounds.”

“You didn’t. Everyone in Ferelden was affected by the Blight, it’s a pain we share. I survived so I can’t complain too much. And if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be able to complain anyway. Besides, I seem to have gained a love of camping from it, as well as many sights I wouldn’t have otherwise been able to see.”

“That’s… A unique way of looking at things.” It was difficult for Andraea to see his expression in the darkness, and the fur around his shoulders gave her the illusion a great beast was striding beside her. She guessed he was frowning.

“I see what Varric means, I can see the crow’s feet even in this light.” It had the desired effect, the commander’s lips cracked into a small smile. “What about you? Which part of Ferelden do you come from?”

“Honnleath was where I spent my childhood before I began training in Denerim. I was transferred to Kirkwall, shortly after the Blight.”

“Ah so _that’s_ why Varric is so interested in talking to you. Wants more fodder for one of his stories.”

“ _You’ve_ read Varric’s books?” He stifled a laugh.

“Don’t bring it up with him or I’ll never get away. He’s already hunting me down for an official opinion.” They reached the bottom of the first set of stairs, leaving them paces from her hut.

“This is where I leave you for the night, Herald.” Andraea arched one of her eyebrows at him. “Andraea. Sorry.” He bowed his head and headed down the remaining stairs towards the gates of Haven. Andraea didn’t pause, just headed straight for her hut and settled herself for the night, removing her armour with a careful reverence before nestling herself under the thick blankets. She stared at the mark; its shimmering hypnotic patterns soon sent her to sleep, blissfully unaware of the Free Marcher dwarf smirking in his tent as he started penning ideas for a new book


	2. The Herald of Andraste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andraea's first trip with her new companions

“Wakey, wakey, Herald!” A loud shout stirred Andraea from her very comfortable slumber. She sat up immediately looking for the source of the noise. Her eyes found Varric striding into the room, though she had to squint as the fire had died down and it was still dark outside.

“Ugh, what is it, Varric?”

“C’mon, get up. Just because you got picked by the Maker’s wife doesn’t mean you get to sleep all day.”

“The sun isn’t even up yet!” She laid back and rolled over.

“You’re correct, but we’re departing at dawn so that means you gotta get up before the sun does.”

“What?” Andraea mumbled, already halfway asleep again, only kept awake by the sound of the dwarf gathering things in her room and taking no care to talk quietly.

“The Hinterlands, Herald. You’ve got work to do.” The warm blankets were suddenly ripped from her body and the cold night air made her recoil automatically. Before she could glare at the dwarf, her heavy armour was dropped onto her stomach, very nearly winding her.

“Varric!”

“Awake now, Herald?” She would have wiped the smug grin off his face if she weren’t busy making sure his rude awakening hadn’t ruptured something. “Ten minutes or I’m bringing the Seeker.” He called over his shoulder as he strode out of her hut, closing the door behind him. It did little to ease the cold. However, the threat of Cassandra bursting in was enough to make Andraea drag herself out of bed. She donned her armour and boots and a travelling cloak she found in a chest. Her long auburn hair was twisted into a simple braid, she had neither time nor focus to style it into anything intricate, but it was secure enough it would hold. When she approached the door, she saw a fine sword and shield propped against the wall next to it. She picked up both, testing their weight and how quickly she could draw the sword from its scabbard before attaching the belt and sheathe to her armour and carrying the shield on her arm. As she opened the door, Varric was already heading towards her hut, but stopped when he saw her.

“You’re a mean little dwarf, Varric.” She accused as she walked up to him. He just shrugged.

“Hey, you’re up aren’t you? Good to see you got Harritt’s little gifts. You’ll need them, and they’re better than whatever you were swinging around in the valley.” He tossed a pack to her with a bedroll and food inside, wearing one of his own she saw as he turned and walked with her down the steps and through the gates. Cassandra and Solas were already waiting for them, each with packs of their own.

“There you are, Herald. We can set off now. It will take close to four days to get to the Crossroads with proper rest and accounting for any trouble we may face along the way. Let us not waste any more time.” Cassandra didn’t even wait for Andraea and Varric to catch up with her and Solas before she started walking down the road to the right. The horizon between the mountain peaks was starting to lighten but Haven was still pitch dark as they left it on foot.

Andraea spent the first few hours of the trek yawning and listening to Varric talk about wicked grace and explaining the rules to her after his incredulous reaction when she told him she’d never played. The road they travelled lead through the mountains but only the first half of the day involved a near continuous uphill walk, much to the complaint of Varric. They rested at the top of a zig-zagging path down the side of the mountains, catching their breath and eating before beginning the decent to the wilderness of the foothills below. The sun was high above their heads by then, around the peak of its arc across the sky. Andraea could see Lake Calenhad reflecting the light in the distance, so vast it looked like a sea. The opposite shore wasn’t even visible from their perch. Somewhere across all that water was what remained of Lothering and she felt the closest to homesick she had done for a long time. She had not returned to Lothering after the Blight, the rumours were it never recovered, and she had no wish to see what was left after the Darkspawn raid, but it was home to her for over a decade.

“Are you well, Herald?” Solas’s voice cut through her thoughts and she dragged her gaze to the elf walking alongside her as they began their descent.

“Huh? Oh, sorry. I’m fine, just zoned out a little.”

“That is understandable; you have been placed with a lot of responsibility in the past few days. I suspect it weighs on your mind.”

“No, I was- well I mean it _does,_ but I was thinking about something else. Nothing to be concerned about, just daydreaming.”

“I see.” The elven apostate looked over her with an analytical gaze before turning it out to the landscape below them. “It is easy to lose one’s self to the beauty of the world where we can seldom find it. I myself find refuge in the memories of past events, often slumbering in old ruins or battlefields.”

“You sleep in old ruins and battlefields? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I do set wards. And the giant spiders tend to live and let live if you leave food out for them. Ah the sights I have seen. I have witnessed events that shaped the world we know today, that will continue to shape it long after we have returned to the earth. Every great story has its hero. I’m intrigued to see what kind you’ll be.”

“Am I astride a noble steed? Valiantly charging into battle with the light of the Maker at my back?” Andraea smirked. To her surprise, Solas also smiled.

“I would have suggested a griffon. Alas, they are extinct.”

“Have you seen any? In your dreams, I mean.” The mage nodded and looked to the sky.

“Magnificent creatures. Never pets or mere tools. Warriors in their own right, fighting alongside the Grey Wardens. It is a sight to behold to see a griffon in flight. And to see the bond the creatures had with their riders? It is a bond one does not often see in a lifetime these days. I’ve seen Warden riders slain and their griffon mourn their loss.” Andraea was fascinated by the elf’s stories, unsure if she should believe them. But she reminded herself he had the knowledge of the rifts and her mark so there was some truth to his expertise concerning the Fade.

“And then they died out during the Exalted Age.” Andraea finished but Solas shook his head.

“Not died out. Hunted to extinction. Are you familiar with The Joining ritual?”

“Not the details but I know it’s how the Grey Wardens achieve immunity to the Darkspawn taint.”

“A warden mage by the name of Isseya attempted to modify the ritual so that it could be effective on the Griffons. But it did not work, and the taint only progressed quicker in the griffons and would kill them not long after. However, the tainted griffons possessed increased strength and endurance and in the desperate times of the Fourth Blight the Wardens subjected old or dying griffons to the ritual so as to make use of them one last time. And then the taint became contagious, spreading to other griffons, making them dangerous to the Wardens until any griffon showing the signs of taint were ordered to be slain until there were no griffons left. Of course, there are legends that state there are griffons still alive and many travellers have claimed to have seen them in secluded corners of Thedas. I can only hope there is truth to these claims.” The pair were silent for a moment, Andraea letting the words take shape in her mind’s eye. The she finally broke the silence.

“How do you see memories in these ruins?”

“Any building strong enough to withstand the rigors of time has a history. Every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen.” His expression was distant but elated as he spoke with such passion.

“I’ve never heard of anyone going so far into the Fade. That’s extraordinary!” Andraea was genuinely impressed. She had encountered her fair share of mages but had never met one who could delve into the Fade like Solas described. But then again, the mages she had met did not have the luxury of travelling to far-flung places of history and lost knowledge to take a nap.

“Thank you. It’s not a common field of study, for obvious reasons. Not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning. But the thrill of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream? I would not trade it for anything. And so, I have decided to stay with the Inquisition.”

“That was in doubt?”

“I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces in the middle of a mage rebellion. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution.”

“Cassandra won’t let anything happen to you, Solas. Neither will I. Besides, the giant hole in the sky trumps any other concerns. We can deal with those later.”

“Yes. I am curious to see what this world looks like once we are done fighting for it. For now, let us hope that either the mages or the Templars have the power to seal the Breach. Meeting with this Mother Giselle should prove beneficial in gaining enough prominence to approach either party.”

The road was longer than it appeared, winding back and forth down the mountainside. Andraea was not looking forward to the return journey. The incline was gradual but seemingly never-ending. It took two hours to make it to the bottom of the track and into the foothills and even Andraea, who had lived for years in the wilderness travelling as a mercenary, had aching feet. There was no more time for rest though and the group continued to wander along the road towards Lake Calenhad. Andraea knew a road ran along the entirety of its shores, divided into different sections but more or less a continuous loop that connected the settlements around the lake. If they made it to that highway then they would not need to worry about getting lost. Up ahead, Cassandra and Varric were bickering.

“I presume you have heard of Prince Sebastian, Varric.”

“I know he invaded Kirkwall, are you going to try and blame me for that too.” While not aggressive, there was a definite edge to his voice as he finished his response. Cassandra looked taken-aback.

“I wasn’t trying to-” But Varric cut her off.

“You weren’t trying to remind me how bad it is in Kirkwall, so you decided to talk about it?”

“I thought you might be concerned. It _is_ your home.”

“Of course I’m concerned! I don’t need you prodding me with a stick to prove it.” And with that, he deliberately slowed his pace, hanging back with Andraea and Solas sped up so that Cassandra would not be walking alone. Not that she would likely care about such a thing, but it was important to maintain some sense of teamwork among these strangers that had been thrown together by some twisted sense of humour of the Maker. Varric was quiet, as was Cassandra. Andraea decided to wait a little before striking up conversation with the rogue.

“I’ve never been to Kirkwall. I travelled there but I never actually entered the city.”

“No? It’s not much to look at these days. What brought a delicate flower like yourself to the Free Marches?”

“I’m from there.” At this Varric stopped, his stubbled jaw hanging open.

“You’re shitting me, right?”

“No, no. I mean I’m from Ostwick, not Kirkwall, but I was indeed born in the Free Marches.” Andraea did not stop walking and couldn’t help a smile as the dwarf powered his little legs to catch up with her.

“A fellow Free Marcher in a world of… well anything but Free Marchers! How come you sound Fereldan?”

“I left Ostwick when I was five and was sent to Lothering where I stayed until the Blight.”

“Oh? And what exactly brought you to Lothering?”

“My family wanted to maintain a good relationship with the Chantry so as their youngest, they sent me to study to become a Chantry sister in Lothering.”

“A Chantry Sister? You? Somehow I don’t think that worked out like they planned did it?” He smirked, hanging onto her every word but she just smiled coyly back at him.

“Come on, Varric if I tell you my entire life story now, there won’t be anything for the trip back to Haven.”

“Oh, so you’re keeping me in suspense, eh? You’re a story-teller after my own heart, Herald.” He thrust both his hands to his chest dramatically. “At least tell me why Kirkwall caught your interest.”

“Kirkwall is an interesting place. Plenty of people go there.” She maintained a false aloofness, even going as far as to tilt her nose up.

“Yes, but why were _you_ interested? Did it happen to have anything to do with my books?”

“Partly.” He laughed and patted her arm. “I knew they were stories but Hard in Hightown intrigued me. The seedy underbelly of a city going to shit. Smugglers, crooks, gangs. A perfect place fore small-time heroes, I thought. And I knew about the business with the Qunari and the Arishok and I’d never seen one. I knew they’d left officially but hoped I might meet one or two. So, I decided to go there and try to help sort things out. But when I got there, half the city was up in smoke from the rebellion. I hadn’t heard anything because I had been travelling. So many people were fleeing the city and I knew the people most at-risk would be mages.”

“So, the Herald of Andraste used to help apostates?” Varric grinned. “Oh, that’s a good twist.”

“I had heard about the cruelty of the Gallows. No one deserves that. Templars are supposed to protect mages not abuse them, _that’s_ what leads to dissent and rebellion.” She paused and took a breath, realising her voice had been getting louder. “Sorry, I did not mean to get so agitated.”

“No, no I agree. Mages are people the same as you and me. And I can’t blame you for not jumping into that chaos, it might’ve even made things worse if you had. I gotta say though, I’m impressed.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, a kid raised to believe the Maker shits gold and you still thought for yourself! You’ve got a strong will, Herald and you’re gonna need it.” He patted her arm again, leaving his hand there reassuringly.

“Thanks, Varric.” She patted his had and smiled down at him.

“Now let’s circle back to my books.” Andraea rolled her eyes so hard her head rolled too as she sighed.

“Maker’s breath.”

“How many have you read?” She started to walk faster but Varric’s hand gripped a strap of her armour tightly. “Can’t get away this time, Herald! You’re all mine for the next two weeks!” She shrugged him off and started walking very quickly but he was keeping up.

“The journey to the Hinterlands is three days, four days, tops.” She started a light run, forgetting how tired her feet were in the light-hearted conversation. Varric followed suit, the two of them overtaking Solas and Cassandra.

“Yeah but we’re gonna be there for at least two days and the journey back is going to be three days if we get the horses, Herald, four or five days if we don’t.” Varric laughed, cornering her behind a tree.

“Dammit!” She ducked out from the tree and kept going, Solas and Cassandra now at a light jog to make sure the group wasn’t separated. Varric had used his shadow cloaking powder and was invisibly stalking her. She had slowed down to a cautious walk when “So which one was your favourite?”

“Andraste’s tits!” She shouted as he reappeared in front of her suddenly and she tripped over a rock backwards.

“I beg your pardon? Was that blasphemy? From the Herald of Andraste herself? Scandalous!” Varric chuckled. Cassandra and Solas caught up, seeing Andraea trying to reorient herself in her still stiff armour.

“You two are acting like children.” Cassandra scolded.

“Oh, lighten up, Seeker.” Varric waved her off as he bent down and pulled Andraea to her feet. “We made it down the foothills twice as fast as we would have.”

“The Herald may not be known by appearance yet, Varric, but it will not be long before she is recognised, and she cannot be seen… frolicking like an unbled little girl.”

“Eew, little graphic there, Seeker. Besides, isn’t that all the more reason to frolic while we can?”

“I would have to agree with master Tethras on this account, Cassandra. It is in these early days where we can afford to relax enough to make the long journey ahead of us bearable and inspire some sense of comradery.” Solas interjected. Cassandra sighed, seeing she was outnumbered.

“I suppose you are right. Moments of respite will not be frequent, and we should enjoy them while we can.” She shook her head, hands on her hips in grudging acceptance of her defeat. “But we must still be wary of wildlife. It will not be a fitting end for the Herald of Andraste if she is eaten by a bear.” She smirked and continued walking along the road.

“Seeker was that a joke!? Did she just make a joke!?” Varric looked incredulously between Andraea and Solas and then Cassandra and back again.

“I believe she did, yes.” Solas answered, leaning on his staff.

“Maybe there’s hope for us yet.” Andraea remarked, walking after Cassandra and alongside her. Behind her she heard Varric say,

“So, what about you, Chuckles? Ever read any of my books?”

“I’m not having this conversation, Varric.” Solas said flatly.

“Ah, c’mon!” Andraea smiled again, or maybe she hadn’t stopped it was so easy to smile around Varric and turned to Cassandra as the two women walked along the road. Cassandra spoke first though.

“Did I do the right thing? What I have set in motion could destroy everything I have revered my whole life. One day, they will write about me as a traitor, a madwoman, a fool. And they may be right.” Andraea did not answer immediately. She had grown up in a highly religious environment and while she had diverted from those ways and taken a less devout path of belief, she understood how important it was to those who still held their faith tight.

“What does your faith tell you?” She finally asked.

“I believe you are innocent. I believe more is going on here than we can see. And I believe no one else cares to do anything about it. They will stand in the fire and complain that it is hot. But is this the Maker’s will? I can only guess.” It seemed more was weighing on Cassandra’s mind than Andraea had bothered to consider. And it made her feel guilty for the small resentment she still harboured towards the Seeker.

“Does that mean you don’t think I’m the Herald of Andraste?” She tried at a playful tone with undercurrents of mock hurt.

“Not if you keep invoking her breasts every time you fall.” Cassandra smirked again and Andraea chuckled. “I believe you were sent to help us. I hope you were. But the Maker’s help takes many forms. Sometimes it is difficult to discern who it truly benefits, or how.”

“So, what happens now?”

“Now, we deal with the Chantry’s panic over you before they do even more harm. Then we close the Breach. We are the only ones who can. After that, we find out who is responsible for this chaos, and we end them. And if there are consequences to be paid for what I have done, I pay them. I only pray the price is not too high.”

“It’s too late to go back now.”

“That is true enough. My trainers always said, ‘Cassandra you are too brash, you must think before you act’. I see what must be done and I do it. I see no point in running around in circles like a dog chasing its tail. But I misjudged you in the beginning, did I not? I thought the answer was before me, clear as day. I cannot afford to be so careless again.”

“It wasn’t like you had no reason to suspect me.” Andraea thought for a moment before deciding to pat Cassandra’s shoulder, leaving an awkward gap between her sentence and the action. It seemed to be appreciated, nonetheless.

“I was determined to have someone answer for what happened. Anyone.” There was another awkward pause as they both strode ahead at quite a pace. Then Cassandra slowed, though she didn’t stop. “You have said you do not believe you are chosen. Does that mean you also don’t believe in the Maker?”

“It’s a… complicated relationship.”

“We have a few more hours before we set up camp, and I am willing to listen. I should know more about you. However, I understand if it is a difficult subject, and will respect your silence on the matter.” Andraea did not speak immediately, selecting her words carefully. Religion was such a sensitive subject and she didn’t want to insult Cassandra’s beliefs.

“I am Andrastian, but not a traditional one. I do believe the Maker exists, but I have no faith in him. I used to, but after seeing what his rejection has done to the world… I will not revere a being that not only turned his back on his entire creation because of a few, but punished generations of innocent people with the Blight, then has the gall to demand us to beg for forgiveness. I have more faith in Andraste, a real, living, breathing woman who gave her life to protect her people instead of turning her back on them. I can’t say if she was ever the Maker’s bride or if, like me, she was simply thrown into the chaos and learned to turn it into order. The way I see it, either the Chantry has it wrong and the Maker is still attending to us but inflicting all this suffering on purpose, or they’re right and he’s left us in the darkness. But we _know_ Andraste was real and what she did. And right now, I feel closer to her as a person, not as the Maker’s bride.” Even she could not deny the similarities between Andraste’s story and her own so far. Building a force to bring peace, a figurehead of both faith and blasphemy, and basing that organisation in the same valley Andraste lead her amies from. Even her name wasn’t so different.

“When did your faith change, may I ask?” Again, Andraea didn’t answer for a moment.

“During the Fifth Blight. The needless, endless pain I witnessed… I will not beg for forgiveness for a crime I didn’t commit to a God that lets children die screaming at the hands of Darkspawn.” Her eyes had gone dark and her fists clenched tightly, an old anger she had buried deep within her now surfaced. “I- Sorry, I do not mean to diminish your faith so harshly.”

“Your grievances are justified. I can sympathise with your anger and with your admiration for Andraste. Our practices of faith may be different, but it does not matter. I have to believe we were put on this path for a reason. Even if you do not. Now it simply remains to see where it leads us.” There was another silence, but this one was serene, comfortable, despite the difficult topic of conversation. Andraea felt a slight weight off her shoulders; so often had she experienced derision at her perception of the Maker, she had come to expect anger or dismissal. Especially from a Seeker of Truth, so devout were they to the Maker and the Chantry. Then again, Cassandra had not long created and declared an organisation denounced by the Chantry. This mutual acceptance was a much-preferred outcome and a bubble of admiration bloomed in her for the Seeker. Cassandra suddenly stopped dead and wheeled around. “If I hear you mention your books _one more time_ , Varric, I am going to find the thickest volume and shove it right up your-”

“Now, Seeker is there really any need for that kind of aggression?” The dwarf also stopped dead and looked both amused and terrified, holding his hands up in peace.

“I’ll even sign it for you, Varric.” Andraea added with a thumbs up. Varric started howling with laughter. Even Solas and Cassandra couldn’t hide the smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths. The dwarf finally gathered himself, wiping tears from his eyes, and pointed ahead.

“Hey, it’s the main road!”

They travelled for four more hours, the sun steadily getting lower in the sky and a view of Lake Calenhad along their left side with its unending waters, when Cassandra called for them to make camp. Andraea was thankful, her feet had been cramping for two of those past hours and Varric had been complaining solidly for an hour. They found a nice spot off the road, sheltered by bushes and mounds of earth and not far from the water’s edge.

“We shall set up camp here for the night. Solas, if you could set wards around the area, Varric-”

“I’ll see if I can catch us something to eat.”

“Yes, good.” Cassandra opened her mouth to address Andraea but second-guessed it at the last second. It was then Andraea remembered only Cullen had bothered to admit he didn’t know her name and she was so impressed by the fact they’d travelled an entire day together and somehow all of them had avoided needing to use her name, that she decided to see how long exactly they could keep it up.

“ _Andraea_ can look for firewood and help with dinner.” Varric suggested. Andraea looked at him and he smirked. Cassandra visibly relaxed and nodded.

“And I shall set up the tents.” They all shed their packs and Andraea ventured off with Varric in search of firewood and food.

“So, I don’t recall telling you my name, Varric.” Andraea said once they were out of earshot.

“That is correct, you never told _me_ your name…” He emphasised the word ‘me’ and paused for dramatic effect before chortling. “Ah, just messing with you. I overheard you talking with Curly last night.”

“Curly? What, the commander?” He nodded. “And you’ve been spending all day calling me Herald because?”

“Same reason you didn’t tell Cassandra and Solas your name; It was funny seeing how long they could pull it off. But I figured once we’re in the Hinterlands, they’ll need to know what to shout when a sword comes swinging at your head. I can call you Herald until the druffalo come home but you won’t respond to it in the heat of a fight. You do need to get used to it though, not everyone is going to know your name or use it if they do and you can’t walk around ignoring people because you don’t recognise they’re talking to you when they say Herald.”

“That… Actually makes a lot of sense.” She ceded, picking up some dried branches and twigs while Varric crouched down to look for animal tracks.

“So, now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, are you holding up alright?” His voice was lowered. “I mean you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas, to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would’ve spread that out over more than one day?”

“It’s been four days, Varric.”

“Yeah but you were asleep for most of it. Lucky for you that meant you avoided the worst of Cassandra’s frothing rage. So c’mon, how you feel?”

“I’m taking it in stride. Slowly… I have no idea what’s happening anymore.” The dwarf chortled.

“That makes two of us.”

“I’m trying not to think about the people at the Conclave.”

“A lot of good men and women didn’t make it out of there. For days we’ve been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows what else fall out of it. ‘Bad for Morale’ would be an understatement. I still can’t believe anyone was in there and lived.”

“If it was that bad, then why did you stay? Cassandra said you were free to go.”

“I like to think I’m as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this… Thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them. And now there’s a hole in the sky. Even I can’t walk away and just leave that to sort itself out.” There was a silence between them as Andraea gathered more wood, and Varric stalked through the bushes. Andraea’s voice was distant, like she wasn’t entirely conscious she was speaking her thoughts.

“I’m still not sure I believe any of this is really happening.”

“If this is all just the Maker winding us up, I hope there’s a damn good punchline coming.”

“Fits with his sense of humour.” She remarked dryly. There was the sound of several bolts being loosed and a splash and Varric popped his head out of the bush holding some skewered fish in one hand.

“You might wanna consider running at the first opportunity. I’ve written enough tragedies to recognise where this is going. Heroes are everywhere, I’ve seen that. But the hole in the sky? That’s beyond heroes. We’re going to need a miracle.”

“Thank you, Varric, for that vote of confidence. I won’t say I’m a miracle, but you said yourself that this won’t sort itself out. Running would do no good for anyone.” Varric smiled approvingly and lightly bumped her arm with his free fist.

“I knew I liked you, Herald.”

“Really? You’re still not using my name?” He let out a raucous laugh as he started looking for edible fauna. “So, why did you call the commander Curly?”

“Oh, that? Well, did you notice how neat his hair is? Brushed back all nice and tidy?”

“I can’t say his hair drew my attention with Josephine, Leliana and Cassandra all bickering with him. And outside was too dark for me to see anything like that.”

“Yeah, well anyway, he spends a lot of time to get his hair to do that. If he doesn’t, he has a mane of golden curls so wild he looks like a lion.”

“Got a bit of a crush there, Varric?” She arched an eyebrow and grinned. He took the joke in stride.

“I’m a writer, I can’t help it if my descriptions are vivid. He can’t stand looking scruffy, he’s such a control-freak, so he does _something_ to his hair. I’m convinced that’s how he got the nickname ‘the Lion of Ferelden’.”

“That’s really his nickname?”

“Not one he chose. And I’ve heard the girls in the tavern calling him the ‘Rose of Honnleath’.” Andraea sniggered and giggled, nearly dropping the firewood she collected. She stopped laughing quickly and knocked some berries out of Varric’s hand.

“I wouldn’t pick those for dinner if I were you, Varric. They look like pygmy plums but if you look at the leaves closely, you’ll see the edges aren’t rounded and the stems are green, not brown.”

“Wow, you’re a little survivalist, aren’t you? So, what did I almost poison everyone with?”

“Nothing deadly, unless you ate a large quantity. Those are flatula berries. They, um…” She tried not to laugh. “They cause a degree of distress to the stomach.” Varric took a moment to understand her then burst out laughing.

“Berries that make you shit! Brilliant! Oh, I need to remember to pick some on the way back to Haven, can you imagine the chaos?”

“Have I told you you’re a mean little dwarf, Varric?” He only laughed again. Andraea lead him to some other bushes. “Here, elderberries. Perfectly edible and good for you. They pair well with fish.”

“A connoisseur of the wild.” He remarked, picking several clusters before joining her as they returned to camp. Cassandra had finished setting up the tent and Solas had set up his wards, now sat around a circle of stones, where Andraea started laying the fire. “Don’t you just chuck them down and light it?” Varric asked, starting to prepare the fish.

“If I lay them like this, the fire will burn for longer.” She finished and reached around looking for flint to spark together.

“Allow me.” Solas said, kneeling down and sending a small ball of fire into the heart of the wood.

“Thank you.” She took the skewered and gutted fish from Varric, mashed up the elderberries and coated them before planting the sticks between the stones at an angle so the flames barely licked the food. She then settled herself next to the fire, watching the flames dance and the berry coating sizzle.

“You are quite proficient at this, Andraea.” Cassandra complimented and Andraea couldn’t help but smile at the deliberate use of her name. “Tell me, how does a traveller find their place at the Conclave?”

“Well, you’ll find out sooner or later I suppose. I’ve mentioned my family are from Ostwick. They are the Trevelyan house of the Free Marches.”

“You’re a noble!? I did not see that coming!” Varric exclaimed. The more he found out about Andraea, the more fascinated he became by her story.

“I know of the Trevelyans. They do indeed have strong connections to the Chantry, and I have met a few of your relatives sent to live under the Chant or as Templars to maintain the good graces. I believe some of your family attended the Conclave.”

“Yes, distant cousins. After the Blight my father, Bann Trevelyan, got word I was still alive and had me brought back to Ostwick where I remained for six years. Then I decided Kirkwall was where I needed to be and of course, found the city in chaos, so I helped people get to safety. I didn’t care if they were mages or not, they needed sanctuary they couldn’t go back. So that’s how I’ve spent the last… three or four years, travelling around doing mercenary work, helping people. Not much different than the Blight except there’s no Darkspawn running around. Somehow my family located me again and told me a Conclave was going to meet and that as a member of the family proper, and I was in the vicinity, I would travel to the Temple of Sacred ashes with my cousins and represent house Trevelyan. They probably think I’m dead. Again.”

“So, you’re not just a noble, you’re part of the head family, my lady.” Varric made a theatrical bow.

“Josephine will need to know this to approach your family.” Cassandra stated. Andraea groaned.

“I know. They’ll find out eventually and it will be better if it comes directly from the Inquisition. I don’t know how they’ll react. Mother will be delighted, her daughter the Herald of Andraste. But until we have favour from the Chantry or prove ourselves, there’s a good chance my father may disown me. I’ll let Josephine deal with the delicacy of the matter. It’s not like it will make much of a difference now.”

“What of your siblings? I understand Bann Trevelyan has six children.” Cassandra asked, Andraea turning the fish so they cooked evenly.

“Yes, four sisters and a brother. My brother, Zacharias, is the eldest so he will inherit the title and estate. Bridgette, my eldest sister is married to some lord in Denerim. Then there’s Luciana, also married to a merchant prince in the Free Marches. Some trade alliance or something. And Catherine is a Cleric of the Ostwick Chantry, though I believe she’s now engaged to an Orlesian Chevalier. The youngest besides me is my sister, Evelynne. She’s a mage, probably hiding out at the family estate. She was at the Ostwick circle, much to my insistence. Mother and father wanted her to go to a prestigious circle like the Spire or Montsimard, but I knew she wouldn’t do well away from home. She is only a year older than me and her magic showed itself when she was thirteen. I happened to be visiting home. Eve thinks that’s why her magic showed then, she was so happy I was home. And as the youngest, I was sent to become a Chantry sister at age five. Had I been a boy, I would have gone to the Templars.”

“The Templars have no rules against women joining their ranks.” Solas informed them.

“No, but my mother definitely does. She disapproves of my choices greatly, doesn’t think a lady should know how to even hold a sword. I bet she has some Orlesian tutor teaching Eve parlour tricks instead of how to protect herself. Luckily, Eve knows how to control her magic after nearly twenty years. Zach, of course, got the full training of a Chevalier without needing to take any oaths.

“I get the feeling you don’t get on well with your family.” Varric said cautiously.

“It’s more that I never spent a lot of time with them. They don’t feel like my family as much as they should. I know my parents love me, but they’re so obsessed with imagery and society. I can honestly say I think I’m the first Trevelyan in centuries to actually embody our house words.” Andraea started checking the fish before handing them out to her companions. “Modest in temper, bold in deed.”

“You will certainly have to be if you are to succeed as the Herald.” Solas said as he bit into his fish. Her skill at cooking over an open fire seemed to be appreciated as nothing but sounds of approval were made about the food. They retired after their supper, the sky now dark. Andraea offered to take the first watch, staring at the fire and keeping it stoked and fed. The embers dancing up into the air and fading among the stars.


	3. Mages and Templars - The Hinterlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly exposition, not a very exciting one but kinda gory

"I spy with my little-”

“No.”

“Oh, come now, Seeker, I’m just trying to be friendly.”

“Try to be quiet instead.”

“When you brought me along to ‘talk’? Perish the thought!”

The road to the Hinterlands had been surprisingly jovial as they left the snow-covered soil of the Frostback foothills. No beasts leapt from the wilds to attack them. No bandits ransacked the camp. They didn’t even encounter any rifts along their path. But there was a recurring danger that Cassandra would stab Varric in his sleep. Or when he was awake. Any time his mouth was open was a risk, be it talking or snoring. Even Andraea had come close to pressing her pack over his face the previous night he snored so loudly. It had been a slow day’s travel after the pitiful amount of rest the group had got, but they were close enough to the forward camp that they had left the road behind to search in the hills for the tell-tale smoke of a campfire. Andraea and Cassandra were at the front of the group hacking a path through a thicket of brambles that stretched across their path all the way up the hillside. It was tough work and Andraea had to pause to plant her sword into the earth and uncork her waterskin.

“You never did tell me why you dragged me all the way to Haven, Seeker. I mean what could I have told the Divine that you couldn’t say yourself?” Varric asked after another long silence.

“I thought she needed to see the chest hair for herself.” Andraea spat up the water she had just taken a swig of.

“I- Say again?” Varric spluttered, cocking his eyebrow at Cassandra.

“I thought she needed to hear it from the horse’s mouth, as it were. I also knew she would ask you to help us.” Cassandra continued as though nothing had happened, hacking some branches out of her way.

“Help the Inquisition? _Me_?” He ducked as particularly prickled branch was tossed towards him.

“A crazy thought, I know. Yet, here you are.” Cassandra replied flatly.

“Could be helping a little more though.” Andraea grunted as she heaved a great tangle of thorny branches out of the way. Solas was assisting by using controlled fire to weaken the branches and clear the smaller ones. He stood up straight and flexed his fingers, turning to his idle dwarven companion.

“Varric. You joined the inquisition when Seeker Penterghast questioned you.” Varric sighed and smiled.

“She was _very_ insistent that I help.”

“Interesting.” Solas said simply.

“What’s interesting?” Varric asked with an air of apprehension.

“It’s surprising that an elven apostate is the one who joined the Inquisition voluntarily.” Solas smiled to himself, amused by the realisation.

“We couldn’t have left the road later on could we? Had to leave the road _before_ we passed the wall of thorny bushes.” Andraea complained, swinging her sword at the brambles and pushing them down and back with her shield.

“If we left the road any later, we would have risked missing the landmarks that lead to the camp.” Cassandra grunted as she continued to carve their path.

“Is the ten acre long, three-acre wide strip of pain-in-the-arse brambles one of these landmarks?” Andraea grumbled under her breath, getting annoyed at her cloak getting caught up for the fifth time.

“I spy-”

“No.”

“But-”

“No.”

“Well you should be good at finding things. But then, you haven’t spotted the camp up-ahead have you?” Every one of them looked around at him and then to where he was pointing. Over the next ridge, they could indeed see campfire smoke drifting up into the sky, still distant but close enough that it gave them all a new wave of energy.

“Solas, I know it’s an irresponsible use of magic, but can you just burn a path for us?” Andraea asked the elf, who looked affronted.

“No, I cannot! That could endanger us all if the fire went rampant through the forest!”

“But we’re so close! Just burn a path through these spikey hell bushes and then freeze the excess!”

“No.” The elf sad definitively. Andraea grumbled and took her frustration out on the brambles in front of her.

“I may have an idea.” Varric suggested with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Oh, really, Varric? Because you’ve been back there watching the three of us making a path while you make feeble attempts at, I spy.” Andraea growled at him. It was true the dwarf hadn’t leant any assistance to the battle with the brambles.

“Well, Herald, it just so happens _I_ have some explosive arrows. If I get to good vantage point, I can shoot ahead of us and blow up part of the thicket.” He explained.

“And you couldn’t have suggested that earlier!?” Andraea was close to smothering him again. He just shrugged.

“Well I haven’t got an infinite number of explosive arrows, so I didn’t wanna waste them. The shot might not wipe the path clean, but it’ll definitely weaken the branches.”

“And how exactly do you intend to get a good vantage point? The only thing here is ground or brambles.” Cassandra challenged, hand on her hip as she rested from her efforts.

“Well….”

…

“This is a terrible idea.” Cassandra stated as Varric clambered onto Andraea’s shoulders where she crouched.

“Relax, Seeker. Whoa.” Varric wobbled as Andraea straightened her legs. “It’ll be _fine_.” He waved her off then lined up Bianca. “Oh yeah this is a good height. Are you people always able to see that far?”

“Varric!” Andraea grunted. He wasn’t large or particularly heavy, but he was in a precarious position upon her shoulders.

“Right, right.” He lined up the shot and fired. There was a delay before a big explosion knocked Andraea backwards, Varric toppling on top of her. “That might need adjusting.” He groaned.

“ _Get. Off._ ” Andraea growled at him through clenched teeth as his heavy landing had winded her. She shoved him off before he got a good footing and he fell on his arse again. “Did it work?” As she straightened, she needed no answer. Before her was a big circle of burning or burnt brambles. Solas had protected himself with a shield charm and was now using cold magic to control the spread of the fire. Cassandra pushed herself up from the ground and picked up Varric by his jacket lapels.

“You idiot! You could have injured us all!” She seethed.

“I said it needed adjusting! It worked though!” He didn’t seem scared of the Seeker and in fact smirked at her when he shrugged. Andraea wondered if he was too clever, he knew Cassandra wouldn’t kill him, or if he was just as much of an idiot as she claimed. Varric was unceremoniously dropped as Cassandra aided Andraea in cutting away the crumbling remains, using their shields to protect themselves against the fire. Though she would never admit it, Varric’s plan had indeed made it easier to cut a path to the other side, and they made through within half an hour. Solas had extinguished the fire as they went and now cast a bitter wind across the landscape, snuffing out any remaining flames. Covered in black soot, the group clambered their way up the ridge. Varric walked beside Andraea, perhaps sensing she was the one least likely to bite his head off. At the crest of the hill, they could see the camp in a cluster of trees in the distance, perhaps an hour or so of travel across the uneven terrain, but mercifully void of brambles. Andraea wanted to reach the camp as fast as she could, finding the energy somewhere deep within her to start a casual jog. Cassandra and Solas followed suit without complaint, but Varric made his fair share of grumbles as he trotted behind them. They were greeted upon their arrival by a dwarven woman with ginger hair twisted into an intricate knot at the back of her head.

“The Herald of Andraste. I’ve heard the stories, everyone has.”

“Are those stories heretical or benevolent?” Andraea asked with a small chuckle.

“We know what you did at the Breach. Inquisition scout Harding, at your service. I- Well all of us here, will do whatever we can to help.”

“Harding, huh? Ever been to Kirkwall’s Hightown?” Varric asked and Andraea could sense the pun coming.

“I can’t say I have. Why?”

“You’d be Harding in- No, never mind.” He seemed to think better of it after his earlier idea, but Cassandra still made a derisive noise in her throat. Ignoring both of them, Andraea continued her conversation with scout Harding.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She held out her hand to shake, which Harding did firmly.

“We should get to business. The situation’s… pretty dire. We came to secure horses from Redcliffe’s Horsemaster; I grew up here and people always said Dennet’s herds were the strongest and the fastest this side of the Frostbacks. But with the mage-Templar fighting getting worse, we couldn’t get to Dennet. Maker only knows if he’s even still alive. Mother Giselle’s at the Crossroads helping refugees and the wounded. Our latest reports say that the war’s spread there too. Corporal Vael and our men are doing what they can to protect the people but… they won’t be able to hold out very long. You best get going. No time to lose.” With that she saluted and took her leave.

“I suppose first thing’s first; We sort out the mage-Templar conflict here and stop more refugees getting hurt.” Andraea addressed her companions. “Once they’re safe, I’ll talk with Mother Giselle and then we can look for Dennet.” She dumped her pack in an empty tent and the others did the same.

“We’ll follow your lead, Herald.” Solas said, gesturing the path down the ridge. She drew her sword and held up her shield ready as they descended, her companions doing the same. The sound of fighting could be heard not far from the camp and it was as they made their way through a crevice in the rock that they saw the source of the fighting.

“Inquisition forces! They’re trying to protect the refugees!” Cassandra called at the sight of mages, Templars and the Inquisition’s soldiers all fought each other.

“Looks like they could use a hand!” Varric agreed, the Inquisition’s forces were scattered about, stretched thin between the double assault, whereas the Templars attacked in group formations Andraea recognised only too well. But this meant she knew the weaknesses of it and so when she saw a group such as this advancing on Inquisition soldiers protecting a man and woman, she charged over and bashed into the frontward Templar with her shield, taking him and his comrades by surprise, breaking their formation.

“We are not apostates! Leave these people out of your petty war!” She glowered at them. Her words fell on deaf ears however as they regathered themselves and advanced on her instead.

“Hold! We are not apostates!” Cassandra reiterated, joining Andraea’s side.

“I do not think they care, Seeker.” Solas said as he froze the left side of a Templar advancing on him, and Varric shattered his arm with a well-placed bolt. Andraea didn’t need telling twice as the resulting scream seemed to trigger the Templars into attacking with full force and Andraea blocked the sword of the Templar she had knocked into. Metal ringing against metal, he was pushing her back on the uneven ground until she trapped his sword between hers and her shield then drove her pommel under his helmet into his throat, making him reel backwards coughing and allowing her to follow-up but dragging the sword across his throat. His blood sprayed across her breastplate, but she did not falter, moving onto the second one coming for her and ducking beside his too-heavy swing and driving her sword upwards between the plates on his abdomen.

“Kill the warrior!” She heard being shouted over the fighting. An arrow went whistling past her and she saw the Templar archer standing at the base of Andraste’s statue.

“Varric!” She shouted, holding her shield up and ducking behind a tree.

“I got it!” And she watched as the archer jolted and fell forward. She had no time to relax as a large Templar with a body-length tower shield crashed into her, only noticing in time to bring her shield up, but not enough to brace herself and she toppled backwards, rolling automatically so she was on her feet again, but he bared down on her, pressing his shield down, pinning her own to her chest while her sword arm supported her weight against him. His sword came swinging from the side and she sacrificed her balance to block it, slamming into the ground but stopping a blow that would have cost her dearly. He pinned her sword arm to the ground, and she saw another Templar coming to lop off her head. She twisted her body as much as she could under the shield and kicked the knee of the one pinning her sideways, hearing the crunch underneath his screams and as soon as his grip relinquished, she stabbed him under his arm and rolled so that she straddled his body and three her shield at the advancing Templar. He saw it coming and knocked it aside, but it was enough. She withdrew her sword thrust it upwards, plunging it into his gut. He coughed up the blood and it ran down her arms until she pulled back her sword and he collapsed; his spirit no longer confined in his body. She picked up her shield from where it landed and turned to see apostates charging in from the East. Solas went to meet them, holding his arms up in a sign of peace, but not relinquishing his staff.

“We are not Templars. We mean you no harm.” It became evident that he was upholding a shield charm as a fireball was launched at him and exploded a metre from him.

“It doesn’t look like they’re listening.” Came Varric’s voice as he fired three bolts into the offending mage’s chest. It had been a long time since she’d fought against a mage but Andraea kept her shield up, tilted down slightly, so as to deflect any fire, or Maker forbid _acid_. Just like she was trained to do. She could feel the pull of the magic on the hair that grew from the back of her neck. Smell the ozone. The hint of burning. She knew it was coming before the spell was cast and sure enough, when the fire came at her, she braced herself as she walked forward into it, towards its source and drove her sword into the mage’s heart. Another mage was readying a lightning spell to hit Cassandra while she was preoccupied. She felt the tingle at her fingertips. The _itch_ to do it. But she clenched her fist and instead swung her sword at the mage’s casting hand, cutting it off cleanly and then opening a wide gash across her stomach. She had to be careful, she was not ready for _all_ of her secrets to be known just yet. The Inquisition had good intentions; she knew that. But they didn’t trust her yet, and it was still early enough for judgments to change. She only hoped she could come to a good mutual point of respect and trust before her decision to reserve certain information was misunderstood as lying or deceit. But they would know eventually. Josephine may have already known; such was her job to know the affairs of nobility. She was pulled out of her thoughts when a cold spell glanced her left arm and froze it to her shield. She turned in time to see the mage responsible coming at her swinging her staff to shatter her arm and managed to side-step the attack and bash the mage in the face with her shield. The mage’s nose was severely broken, and blood trickled freely down her face. Her lip had split too, exposing her teeth in a macabre sneer. Andraea didn’t take time to look at it though and ran her through before taking cover so she could assess the damage on her frozen arm. Luckily, it was only a casing of ice rather than freezing her flesh. She noticed her left hand was unaffected, the ice fading as it reached her wrist. Solas came over and applied a weak fire spell to weaken the ice before she could crack it off without damaging her armour or skin. She flexed her fingers.

“Thanks. Is that all of them?” She did not sheathe her sword until he nodded.

“I believe so, for now. The Inquisition’s forces are tending to the wounded and seeking out the refugees hidden here. With luck the Crossroads will be a functioning settlement again by tomorrow.” They regrouped with the Inquisition soldiers as the refugees that survived came out of their hiding places to tend to the injured and dying. They saluted Andraea as she approached.

“My lady, Herald! No sign of any more Templar or Mage forces around the immediate area. Luckily, no refugees were lost in this attack, but some have been injured badly. They’ve been sent to the healers. Mother Giselle is attending to them.” The young soldier pointed up to one of the huts.

“Make sure to bury the dead.” She strapped her shield to her back. “Away from the houses. With the proper rights of the Chant.” They saluted her and she took her leave as they returned to their duties. She found Mother Giselle easily enough, the bright red attire of the Chantry standing out amongst the greens and browns of the Fereldan wilderness. She was knelt by an Inquisition solider lying on a stretcher.

“There are mages here who can heal your wounds. Lie still.”

“Don’t let them touch me mother!” He bit out through gritted teeth in his pain. Andraea could see the deep crimson stain across his right side. “Their magic is-” She interrupted him but kept her voice calm and soothing.

“Turned to noble purpose. Their magic is surely no more evil than your blade.”

“But-”

“Hush, dear boy. Allow them to ease your suffering.” He laid back on the stretcher and allowed the nearby mage to proceed. Andraea approached, reminded of how infinitely glad she was she didn’t continue her journey in the Chantry and spend her life wearing such a ridiculous hat.

“Mother Giselle.” She bowed her head in respect to the Orlesian woman.

“I am. And you must be the one they are calling the ‘Herald of Andraste.’” Andraea was sure she painted a lovely image, covered head to toe in black soot, sweat, dirt and blood. The very definition of divine providence.

“Not through any choice of mine.” She sighed, shaking her head. She felt her hair sticking to her neck at the movement. Mother Gisele chuckled; hands folded behind her back.

“We seldom have much say in our fate, I’m sad to say.”

“So… You agree with them?”

“I do not presume to know the Maker’s intentions, for _any_ of us.” There was a pause in which Andraea looked over at the solider being tended to. And Mother Giselle’s words came back to her. A wise woman.

“What you said to that soldier about mages.”

“We do not teach that magic is evil, we teach that Pride is evil and corrupts not only mages. But I did not ask you to come simply to debate with me.”

“Then why _am_ I here?” The older woman started to walk and gestured for Andraea to walk with her.

“I know of the Chantry’s denouncement. And I am familiar with those behind it. I won’t lie to you; Some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine.” She stopped and turned to face the young warrior. “Some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us.” Her voice softened.

“And that’s an excuse? They’re making things worse!” Andraea protested, and edge to her voice as she witnessed the remaining carnage of the fight. If the Inquisition had the Chantry’s support, the Templars and mages may have been more willing to listen. They would have the power and influence to ask for their help and stop this pointless fighting.

“They do not know that. Fear makes us desperate. But hopefully not beyond reason.” Mother Giselle chastised. Andraea suddenly felt like she was a child again, having her knuckles rapped for backtalking. Then her voice softened again. “This is my point; Go to them. Convince the remaining clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe.”

“You want me to appeal to them? How do I know they would even listen?”

“If I thought you were incapable, I wouldn’t suggest it.”

“Wouldn’t it just make things worse?”

“Could it be worse than it already is?” She asked nonchalantly.

“Probably, yes.” The Andrastian follower smiled.

“Let me put it this way.” And her expression took on a coy nature that reminded Andraea of a sly cat. “You needn’t convince them all. You just need some of them to… _doubt._ Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them and you will receive the time you need.”

“It’s good of you to do this. Do I show up, show the mark on my hand and tell them my story?”

“I honestly don’t know if you’ve been touched by fate or sent to help us, but I hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us… or destroy us.”

“No pressure then.” Andraea scoffed, incredulous at how Mother Giselle had maintained such a level voice while uttering such words.

“I will go to Haven and provide sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry who will be amenable to a gathering. It is not much. But I will do whatever I can.” And with that, she walked away, over to some Inquisition soldiers who escorted her up towards the camp. Andraea stood there, her shoulders much heavier than they were previously. She knew she would have a hand in the Inquisition’s development, but she didn’t comprehend just how big it already was just by existing. Had she seriously somehow thought she would close the Breach, if possible, and then walk away from it all?

“What have I gotten myself into?” She muttered, rubbing her neck and feeling how crusty her body was. “I… need a bath. Badly.” She descended the steps and re-joined her companions, each in their own casing of grime. Varric wasn’t too bad, having managed to stay at long-range for most of the fighting, Solas was a little worse but Cassandra was caked in blood, mud, soot and sweat, more so than Andraea.

“You two look like shit.” Varric confirmed.

“Thank you, Varric.” She smirked at him before addressing everyone. “We need to stop the mage-Templar fighting here before we approach Dennet. And hep the refugees any way we can.”

“And how do you propose we put an end to the conflict? Neither party has shown any desire to parlay.” Solas inquired.

“Both sides must have footholds in the Hinterlands, camps where they operate from. If we can uproot these camps, their forces will be scattered, and the fighting will desist. There will still be small conflicts, but nothing big like the fighting we just saw. Nothing that will endanger the refugees.”

“We break their unity and they will have no bulk to clash against each other.” Cassandra summarised, approvingly. Andraea nodded.

“Quick question, how do we find these camps?” Varric asked, putting his hand up like a petulant schoolboy. “The Hinterlands aren’t exactly small.”

“Well for a start, the Templars attacked from the west, and the mages from the north. I’d say that’s a good indication of which direction the camps are in. Magic is easy enough to detect and the mages will definitely have set wards and defences around their base. They’ll likely be sheltering in a cave or an abandoned building, being rebels. The Templars will have a proper camp, supplied by the Chantry no doubt. I suggest we go for the mages first; The Templars aren’t interested in hurting the refugees if they have no apostates here to hunt, but the rebel mages might direct their bitterness at everyone, not just the Templars.”

“You have a surprisingly tactical mind, Andraea.” Solas marvelled.

“Yeah? Travelling around for half your life gives you a wide perspective I suppose. Does that work for everyone?” They all agreed and ventured up the north road, through the tunnel that separated the Crossroads from the wilderness. Immediately they could see more conflict, over by the ruins of a great keep. The apostates were coming out of the woods to the north so that was where Andraea lead the others, skirting around the fight. She could feel the pull of magic through the trees but before she could pinpoint it, the mark flared up, sending prickles of fire along her arm and she heard the familiar crackling of a rift tearing open reality. It led away from the initial pull of magic she was following, but demons posed a greater threat than apostates and she diverted their path to the west. She could see the wards and charms hung in the trees as they ventured onward. And there it was, burning bright green yet melting into the air around it, solid, liquid and gas all in one impossible creation. And beneath it lurched two thin, towering demons of terror, with gaping maws and too many eyes, their long claws twitching with the need to slice something. Varric and Solas crept through the trees to flank the creatures. The two warriors drew their swords and shields and Cassandra gave a firm nod before they both charged in. The terror demons spotted them and started swiping their claws as they stomped towards them, but Solas had placed ice mines mere steps from them and they were both caught, ice spreading through their stick-like legs ready for Cassandra and Andraea to come in and smash with their swords while Varric maintained their attention with a hail of well-aimed bolts to their heads. But demons don’t die so easily as mortals and their wounded torsos continued to thrash and swipe at the warriors. The one Andraea was fighting still had its tail and she was caught in the stomach by it, too focused on the deadly claws to spot it before it collided and knocked her into a tree. She slumped down and breathed hard, using her sword for support then literally jumping into the fray again and slicing through its arm, cutting it clean from its body, thick greenish-black blood spewing forth. The ground where it landed started to morph and bubble, shadows rippling unnaturally beneath her feet. She stepped aside just in time as the ground erupted into sharp spikes that would have surely skewered her. In her distraction, the terror demon hand launched what remained of itself on top of her and she was shoved against a large rock on the floor trying to fend off its wide-open jaws while dodging the stabs of its tail. She could see the ground starting to morph beneath her again as its blood continued to pour, seemingly never ending.

“Andraea!” A block of ice hurtled into the side of the demon’s head, freeing Andraea from its weight in time for her to scrambled out of the way as it was impaled on the spikes. “Close it, now!” Solas shouted. She didn’t need telling twice and thrust her palm to the rift, a crackling beam of green energy connected with the rift and she willed it to fold in on itself and close, the demons sucked back into it before it exploded into nothing.

“Well it was about time we bumped into one.” She grumbled, picking herself up. The demon blood had vanished from the realm of reality with the demons and the rift leaving everything stationary. As it should be.

“Mages, Templars and demons. What a rich day.” Varric commented cheerily, shouldering Bianca. Andraea picked up her sword where she had dropped it and kept it drawn as they started back east to where she felt the pull of magic. It didn’t take long before they saw more physical signs of magic; Great crystals of ice jutting form the earth, more and more frequently the further northeast they travelled.

“Up ahead, the apostate camp.” Solas murmured. “Let us _try_ to talk with them first, yes?”

“Alright, Solas. We can try.” She kept her shield on her arm, as did Cassandra, their swords lowered but not sheathed as they approached with Solas at the front, hands raised in sign of peace.

“My friends we only wish to-” A bolt of lightning shot at him, only missing because he moved aside. “We are not here to reincarcerate you in Circles!”

“Chantry lies!” Another streak of lightning and this time it its mark, dancing across Solas’ right side. And then havoc broke loose as spells went flying everywhere, soon joined by Varric’s crossbow bolts. Andraea raised her shield and ducked for cover behind a pillar of ice. Cassandra had down the same across form her and she signalled Andraea to flank the mages. They ran in, shields up, swords ready and carved their way through the apostates.

***

“Harritt was right, I’m chafing all around my shoulders.” Andraea rolled her arms and felt how tender the skin was. She’d been using the poultice the blacksmith had recommended, and it had been working, but she hadn’t been swinging her sword and shield much on the journey to the Hinterlands. Now she was covered in more blood, so much it was seeping through to her underclothes. “If we see a lake or a pond or _something_ on the way to the Templar camp, let’s stop for a wash, okay?”

“Ultimately pointless since we will likely be fighting the Templars. They will not simply abandon their camp here because we uprooted the apostates.” Solas was wiping blood and dirt from his shiny bald head with a rag. They’d found documents in the cave detailing the location of the Templars’ camp, likely taken from a dead member of the order and were already journeying southwest.

“All this work better score points with the Chantry clerics.” Varric grumbled, leant against the crumbling wall of the ruined keep emptying his boot of stones. He’d just pulled it back on when his head snapped to look at the keep entrance and he took off inside.

“Hey! Varric don’t just run off!” Andraea called, going after him. She stopped at the doorway, seeing he wasn’t very far in. He was stood staring at the spikes of red crystals sprouting out of the back wall.

“Red lyrium. Shit! Puts a hole in my ‘Red lyrium at the temple was a coincidence’ theory.” He sighed and kicked a piece of rubble. Andraea remembered him mentioning red lyrium at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It was obviously something personal to the dwarf. She stepped forward and put her hand on his shoulder to show some form of support.

“If you want, we can use one of your special arrows and blow it up?” She suggested. He laughed. “Do you think that would help, Varric?”

“You know what? I think it might.” He grinned up at her and walked with her back to the doorway, a safer distance. He drew Bianca and loaded the explosive bolt. He took his time aiming, even though it was quite a large, stationary target and pulled the trigger. Half the room collapsed in, creating a thick cloud of smoke and dust.

“What did you _do_!?” Solas yelled, holding his head in complete shock. “Do you know what kind of memories may lay here in the Fade!? The _history_!?”

“Well, now it has one more, Chuckles.” Varric shrugged and Solas was dumbstruck as he and Andraea walked past him. “We should send word back to Haven about this. Maybe they can investigate it.”

“Come, Solas. We have more important work to do here.” Cassandra said, pulling the elf away from the half-collapsed ruin.

“The letters say the Templar camp is near the river. So, we follow the road west until we find the river I guess.” Andraea said. “Oh, well I can already see it from here. And… yep, looks like the Templars are patrolling. Let’s go.” She called back to Cassandra and Solas.

“You can take out your frustration on the Templars, Chuckles.”

“ _If_ they don’t want to do this peacefully.” Cassandra reminded him. It turned out they did not want to do it peacefully. As soon as they saw Solas, the Templars attacked, shouting ‘Apostate’ and ‘kill the rebels’.

“We need to stop bringing you to these things, Chuckles, everyone wants to kill you.” Varric shouted over the din of metal clashing, shooting a rather large Templar through the eye slot in his helmet.

“We should let the refugees know the camps have supplies they can use.” Cassandra said, wiping her blade before sheathing it.

“And they can send someone to perform last rights to the dead. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth to leave them like this.”

“I am surprised you show such respect to your enemies, Andraea.” Solas said, seemingly over the red lyrium incident. “And unbiased as to who your enemies were.”

“Do you see more than one colour of blood on any of us? The Chantry is supposed to teach that magic is dangerous but not evil. That anyone can be corrupted. But sometimes it strays from that and stories designed to scare children start to appear. ‘Mages have serpent tongues, eyes of a ram and blue blood like lyrium’. I think was the favourite in Lothering. Mages have red blood like the rest of us, they deserve the same rights in death.”

“And you claim you’re not the Herald of Andraste?” Varric smirked.

“Don’t start that again, Varric.” She sighed. “Right, before we go see Dennet, I’m going to wash off what I can in the river. I stink and everything is sticky.”


	4. Clerics, Drunks and Swordplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some unwanted confrontations and secrets

Three days they were in the Hinterlands, driving off wolves, demons and bandits in order to appease Dennet and gain his services. He was kind enough to give them horses of their own in the meantime which made it a lot easier to travel across the Hinterlands helping civilians and refugees, making sure the mage-Templar threat was truly gone. They even convinced a cult group Andraea was indeed the Herald of Andraste by closing a rift in their keep. Though why they decided to live in a keep with a rift was beyond any of them. Solas had ventured into Varric’s dreams on one night to give him nightmares as payback for the ruin incident and Varric refused to talk about what exactly he’d dreamt about. They had established three camps for the Inquisition and closed five rifts. Not to mention saving an inquisition soldier from Templars and recruiting her as a spy at Varric’s suggestion. And finding an eleven woman’s stolen ring. Small kindnesses but deeds like that would surely earn favour among the remaining clerics, and Andraea was happy to help. It was what she was there for and it wasn’t very different from what she’d been doing the past four years. The only difference was the mixture of reverence and derision she got from people who recognised her as the Herald, rather than a generic member of the Inquisition. After establishing a strong presence and boosting their reputation, they spent two and a half days riding back to Haven, a mercifully quicker journey with the horses from Dennet. A soon as she could see Haven’s Chantry from the mountain road, she urged her horse to go faster, cantering down the path. She only slowed to a trot when she could see the gates and the soldiers training near it; she didn’t want to accidentally run them down. As soon as she and the others had finished stabling their mounts, an Inquisition soldier came up to Andraea.

“My lady Herald!” He saluted. “Lady Montilyet has requested a meeting with you in her study as soon as you can.”

“Already? What about?”

“She did not divulge that information, my lady, only that she needed to speak with you urgently.”

“Alright, I’ll be there within the hour.” He saluted again and hurried off to relay the news to Josephine.

“No rest for the righteous, Herald?” Varric smugly jested, taking her pack from her so she could be on her way.

“Apparently not.” She shrugged, heading through Haven’s gates, noticing the commander wasn’t training his recruits. Perhaps he was to be party to the meeting with Josephine? She headed to her hut to set down her shield and sword and debated drawing a bath but thought better of it; She wouldn’t have time and she hated to rush bathing, she liked to take her time. There was a washing basin in the hut, already with water in it and she could at least mask the smell of travel and make an effort for the ambassador. She shed her armour, wincing as the straps scraped against the blisters and chafed skin. Yes, a change of clothes and a quick wash was sorely needed before seeing anybody. She shed her smelly, dirty, and in places ripped clothes and stood shivering as she reached out for the washcloth. The water was so cold, she had to psych herself up to put it to her skin and gave herself the quickest wash she’d ever had. “Andraste’s flaming sword, _fuck!_ ” She swore through chattering teeth as she pulled on a tunic and breeches she’d found in the chest at the foot of her bed. She released her hair from the tangled messy braid it was hastily tied into and started to wash out the worst of the blood, dirt and sweat left from the Hinterlands. It was only as she was tying it back up into an intricately braided bun that she took in her reflection and dropped her hair from where she’d painstakingly been fiddling with it and leaned in close to the clouded but still functional mirror. “What the fuck!?” She pulled at her cheeks to open her eyes more. Her eyes were a muted sky blue and had been since birth. That was her eye colour. But the reflection in the mirror showed her eyes that were brighter and greener but not entirely so, somewhere between blue and green. “What the _fuck!?_ ” She looked down at the shimmering green mark on her hand, then back to her reflection. It wasn’t an unpleasant colour, but it didn’t look natural. Had they been gradually changing colour, or had they been that way since the Conclave? Was it dangerous? “Solas!” She shouted, running out of her hut in time to catch the elf talking with Varric at the tents. “Solas, a word please!” She gestured frantically for him to come to her hut and seeing her distress, he did not hesitate to run over, Varric with him.

“What is it? Are you alright?” He asked, concerned. She stepped close to him and held her eyes open.

“You tell me! Have my eyes been this colour since we met?” He was rightly bewildered but looked closely, nevertheless.

“I… believe so, yes.” She leant down so Varric could see too.

“Yup, pretty sure they’ve always looked like that.”

“No, no they haven’t always looked like that! My eyes are blue. Blue blue!”

“Calm down, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” Varric tried to sound reassuring but his expression told a different tale as he looked up at Solas. The elf took another look at her eyes and then the mark, flitting between them.

“It would appear the magic in your mark is reflecting out of your eyes. It is, indeed, nothing to worry about. Magic often shows its presence in the eyes of the wielder.”

“So, it’s not spreading?” She asked hopefully. Solas smiled and shook his head and released her hand.

“No. Not since you stabilised the Breach. You are in perfect health, Herald.” She visibly relaxed with a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Solas. You’ve no idea what a relief that is.” She walked over to the mirror again and took a more relaxed look at her new eyes. “You know… Now I know it’s not a death warning, I quite like this colour.”

“Ever the optimist, Bright-eyes.” Varric chuckled as he and Solas took their leave. Andraea had been wondering when Varric would choose a nickname for her, or if he’d simply settle on Herald. He seemed to have a nickname for everyone else that she knew of. She re-braided her hair again and twisted it up at the back of her head. She wasn’t stunningly pristine, but she was at least presentable and no longer smelled like a dead dog. She found the coat she had worn before and wrapped herself up in it before venturing back outside and heading to the chantry. As soon as she ascended the steps, she saw a large crowd by the doors, mages and Templars facing against each other.

“Your kind killed the most holy!” One Templar snarled, stepping forward to accuse the mages. A mage stepped up to meet him, his staff drawn, but at his side.

“Lies! Your kind let her die!”

“Shut your mouth, mage!” The Templar raged and reached for his sword, Andraea broke into a run to intervene, but the Commander beat her to it, stepping between the two warring parties before anything more could be done.

“Enough!” He barked.

“Knight Captain!” The Templar relinquished the grip on his sword.

“That is _not_ my title! We are _not_ Templars any longer.” He scolded, an anger in his eyes and his voice Andraea hadn’t thought possible for the gentle man. She’d only seen a glimpse of him irritated. “We are _all_ part of the Inquisition!” He reprimanded both mages and ex-Templars equally, she was pleased to see.

“And what does that mean exactly?” Came Chancellor Roderick’s nasally voice as he strode through the crowd to challenge Cullen.

“Back already, Chancellor? Haven’t you done enough?”

“I’m curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its Herald will restore order as you’ve promised.” He gestured around Haven and then settled his hand in the direction of Andraea as she approached, before turning back to Cullen, who looked unintimidated and unimpressed, rolling his eyes.

“Of course you are.” He stepped past Roderick. “Back to your duties, all of you!” He ordered, the crowd dispersing with no room to disobey. It cleared the way for Andraea to approach them. “Mages and Templars were already at war, now they’re blaming each other for the Divine’s death.”

“Which is why we require a _proper_ authority to guide them back to order!” The Chancellor sneered.

“Who, you?” Cullen snorted with his arms folded. “Random clerics who weren’t important enough to be at the Conclave?”

“The rebel Inquisition and its so-called ‘Herald of Andraste’? I think not.” He sniped derisively and scoffed, glaring at Andraea. She met the challenge and stepped forward.

“If the ‘proper authority’ hadn’t completely failed, then the Conclave wouldn’t have even been needed.” She argued.

“So, you suggest I blame the Chantry? And exalt a murderer? What of Justice?” The Chancellor stepped even closer to Andraea and the Commander took a step to be shoulder to shoulder with her. A very clear message to back off.

“That won’t help restore order in the here and now.”

“Order will never be restored so long as this rebellion is allowed to fester, and this false Herald allowed to besmirch the Chantry.” He pointed at her accusingly. She knocked his finger aside.

“I don’t believe I’m Andraste’s Herald any more than you do, Chancellor, and I have no intention of spreading doubt among the faithful. The Chantry is doing that all on its own.” Cullen smothered a snigger.

“That _laudable_ humility won’t stop the Inquisition from using the misconception when it suits them.” Roderick snapped.

“The Inquisition claims only that we must close the Breach or perish.”

“You say that now, Commander. But we shall see if that sentiment remains true.”

“Remind me why you’re allowing the Chancellor to stay?” Andraea asked Cullen, folding her arms and making the pair of them look like bodyguards.

“Clearly you _Templar_ knows where to draw the line.” The Chancellor answered smugly, hands behind his back. She saw a vein in Cullen’s neck twitch.

“He’s toothless. There’s no point turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth. The Chancellor’s a good indicator of what to expect in Val Royeaux, however.”

“How widespread is the mage-Templar war exactly?” Andraea asked, turning to face Cullen and signalling she was done talking with the Chancellor.

“Impossible to say.” Cullen grimaced, shrugging.

“Your organisation flouting the Chantry’s authority will not help matters!” Andraea was getting rather annoyed at the incessant complaints of the Chancellor and his refusal to let his part in the conversation end. Cullen continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“With the Conclave destroyed, I imagine the war between Templars and mages has renewed. With interest.”

“So, the mages and Templars are fighting even though we don’t know what really happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes?” Again, she addressed the Commander, but the Chancellor answered.

“Exactly why all this should be left to a new Divine. If you are innocent, the Chantry will establish it as so.”

“Or will be happy to use someone as a scapegoat.” Cullen snarled. Andraea watched the vein in his neck as it ran all the way up his jaw to his temple. Chancellor Roderick seemed even more affronted and stepped closer to the pair of them, and Cullen met him, standing in front of Andraea now.

“You think nobody cares about the truth? We all grieve Justinia’s loss.”

“But you won’t grieve if the Herald of Andraste is conveniently swept under a carpet.” Cullen growled, and Andraea saw the image of the lion briefly. She couldn’t help tilting her head slightly at it. The Chancellor finally got the message and turned on his heel, leaving the two alone.

“Well let’s hope we find solutions, and not a cathedral full of Chancellors.” Andraea commented dryly. Cullen relaxed and turned to her, smiling.

“The stuff of nightmares.”

“I should go see the Lady Ambassador, she wanted to see me urgently and that was nearly an hour ago. Don’t let anyone riot while I’m gone.” She jested.

“The walls will still be standing upon your return. I hope.” She chuckled and patted his shoulder as she turned to enter the Chantry. It was still as dim and quiet as before, but she saw Mother Giselle standing down the hall.

“Mother Giselle, I’m glad to see you reached Haven safely. I trust it wasn’t a difficult journey?”

“My lady, I thank you for your concern. You have a good foothold here in Haven and I trust your trip to the Grand Cathedral will be fruitful.” She nodded to her and Andraea knocked on Josephine’s door.

“Come in.”

“The Inquisition cannot remain, Ambassador, if it cannot prove it was founded on Justinia’s orders.” Lady Josephine was in a heated discussion with a masked noble Andraea could guess was Orlesian.

“This is an inopportune time, Marquis. More of the faithful flock here each day. But allow me to introduce to you the brave soul who risked her life to slow the magic of the Breach. Lady Herald, this is the Marquis DuRellion, one of Divine Justinia’s Greatest supporters.”

“And the rightful owner of Haven. House DuRellion lent Justinia these lands for a pilgrimage. This ‘Inquisition’ is not a beneficiary of this arrangement.”

“Interesting, considering the Inquisition was founded by the left and right hands of the Divine.” Andraea challenged. She seemed to be facing all kinds of conflict in Haven.

“I see no written records from Sister Leliana _or_ Seeker Penterghast that Justinia approved the Inquisition.” He argued.

“If he won’t take her at her word, I’m afraid Seeker Penterghast must challenge him to a duel.”

“ _What?_ ” The Marquis exclaimed. Josephine continued in her matter-of-fact tone.

“It is a matter of honour among the Nevarrans. Shall I arrange the bout for tonight?”

“No! No. Perhaps my reaction to the Inquisition’s presence was somewhat hasty.” He panicked and sighed, shaking his head.

“We face a dark time, your Grace. Divine Justinia would not want her passing to divide us. She would, in fact, trust us to forge new alliances to the benefit of all, no matter how strange they may seem.” Andraea had to stop herself from grinning at Josephine’s expertly selected words.

“I’ll think on it, Lady Montilyet. The Inquisition might stay in the meanwhile.” Defeated, he took his leave and Andraea closed the door behind him.

“Do the DuRellion family actually have a claim to this land?” She asked.

“His Grace’s position is not so strong as he presents it. Despite their Fereldan Relations, House DuRellion is in fact Orlesian. If the Marquis wishes to claim Haven, Empress Celene must negotiate with Ferelden on his behalf. Her current concerns are a bit larger than minor property disputes.”

“You handled him well. I’m glad you’re on our side.”

“The Marquis will still spread the tale of the Inquisition. An Ambassador’s duty is to ensure the tale is a complimentary as possible.”

“May I ask what brought you to work for the Inquisition?” Josephine sat at her desk and gestured for Andraea to take a seat too. She did.

“Sister Leliana approached me. We’ve been acquainted for quite some time. For better or worse, being the Inquisition’s diplomat has become as interesting as she promised.

“So, you’ve had dealings with nobility before?”

“For some years I was the royally appointed court Ambassador from Antiva to Orlais. The nobility of Thedas is a rather singular sphere. Those I’m not acquainted with, I know by reputation. Thedas’ politics have become… agitated of late. I hope to guide us down smoother paths. But I asked you here for more than a friendly discussion and to intimidate the Marquis.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, it is in relation to your lineage.”

“Oh.”

“From your tone, I assume you know where I may be going with this. An alliance with the Trevelyans would be most advantageous for the Inquisition. Their relationship with the Chantry would provide us with much needed support in Val Royeaux. I am not overly familiar with the Trevelyans so naturally I decided to do a little research into your family, and I was surprised to find no record of an Andraea Trevelyan.”

“You didn’t?” Andraea gulped. Josephine had a stern, devilish smirk as she leaned over the table.

“No, I did not. The rest of your information was correct about the siblings, but Bann Trevelyan’s youngest daughter is in fact called Andromeda Trevelyan.” Andraea groaned. “Would you care to explain this, My Lady?”

“It’s not what you think, Lady Montilyet. I might prefer it if it was. I _am_ Andromeda Trevelyan; I changed my name during the Blight.”

“Would you care to explain why? You did not present your relation to your family as one you would want to hide.”

“Well wouldn’t you? Maker’s breath, it sounds like something an Orlesian noble would name his favourite horse! Curse my mother for picking such an idiotic name.” Josephine burst out in a fit of giggles. “What? I thought you were furious with me. I was afraid you thought me a liar.”

“Ahaha, my apologies, My Lady. I could not keep a straight face after that Orlesian comment.” She took a moment to compose herself. “I _was_ concerned when I received a letter from your mother in response to my initial contact with your family regarding your survival and new title, refusing she had any child by the name of Andraea. That lead me to conduct my research and I contacted your family with an apology for the misunderstanding. Your brother, Zacharias, he had sent a letter of his own before mine reached them, detailing that you had taken to calling yourself Andraea or Andy, much to your mother’s displeasure, and she had written her response in a fit of angry tears and sent it off before anyone else could read the letter and confirm your relation. Incidentally, once your mother calmed down enough to read the rest of the letter, she nearly fainted with pride that you have been named Andraste’s Herald.”

“And my father?” She asked, wincing.

“Not quite fainting, but he is proud of you and has accepted an alliance with the Inquisition.”

“He’s proud?”

“Yes. In fact, I’m told he spoke of arranging visitations and suitors. I believe your brother discouraged the latter, saying the Herald of Andraste would need to remain… um, pure, in the eyes of the faithful.” Andraea snorted.

“I’m afraid that ship has sailed.” She muttered before she realised what she said. When she looked at Josephine, the ambassador was leaning across the table with avid interest.

“Oh? Do tell, Lady Trevelyan.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a gossip, Lady Montilyet.” She arched her eyebrow and smirked at the Antivan. “Perhaps another time. If that is all, my apologies but I have had a long week and my bed is calling to me.” She rose from her seat and Josephine did the same.

“Of course, My Lady.” She walked Andraea to the door and opened it for her. Before she walked through, Andraea stopped and turned back to Josephine.

“And um… Please don’t tell anyone about my birth name. Keep it our secret, yes?”

“My lips are sealed… Andromeda.” She giggled and shut the door.

“Josephine!” She could hear the ambassador giggling behind the door and sighed, not able to stop the smile. She’d really thought she was in trouble for a moment. Now she just had the looming danger of Josephine letting slip her real name. Not a devastating thing but she really hated it. She exited the Chantry, wrapping her coat around her at the bitter cold. She was looking forward to her warm bed. As she walked through the snow, she noticed there were more people in Haven; The refugees and faithful Josephine had spoken about, and she suddenly felt very guilty about the large hut she had all to herself. She would have a word with Josephine in the morning and see if she could be housed somewhere more economical and let the hut be used for refugees. For that night however, she was going to enjoy the warm bed and roaring fire. She waved at Varric as she passed him, descending the icy steps and hurrying to the warmth of her cabin. It washed over her like a dream and the sole focus of her attention was her bed. She dropped the coat on the floor and flopped onto the mattress, sighing and groaning with relief, eyes closed and feet hanging off the edge of the bed, still in their boots. She had no energy to slide under the covers and right herself, only drifted off where she was. It felt like she’d only just reached the welcoming arms of sleep when there was a knocking at the door. It barely disturbed her, merging into the fabric of her dream. Then a hand on her shoulder made her jump awake.

“Forgive me! I didn’t mean to startle you, Herald. I’m sorry.” It was Commander Cullen, still in full armour and looking very tired.

“Commander? Cullen what is it? Is everything alright?” Looking around as she sat herself up, she saw it was still dark outside and her fire was still burning brightly.

“Everything is fine, My Lady. Seeker Penterghast has called a meeting at the war table concerning the gathering of the remaining Grand Clerics.” He rubbed his neck and shifted where he stood. He didn’t seem to know what to do with himself. And his cheeks were pink. Andraea noticed her coat was folded over his arm. Had he tripped on it?

“What time is it?” She yawned.

“Most of Haven’s residents are finishing their supper, My Lady. I was told you retired to your quarters early, but I wasn’t expecting to find you passed out on the bed with your boots on.” He smiled but caught himself and straightened his expression.

“Commander, I told you to call me Andraea. Why so formal?” He rubbed his neck again.

“I was informed you are of noble birth, My Lady. When Seeker Penterghast sent me to collect you.” He was avoiding eye-contact, resting his gaze on the hearth. Andraea stood and gripped his arm to stop him rubbing his neck raw.

“That doesn’t mean you have to walk on eggshells around me. None of this ‘My Lady’ or calling me Herald. Your acceptable options are Andraea, Andy, or Hey you, remember?” He cracked a smile and let it remain. “Much better. I need my witty Commander to help me fend off pestering Chancellors and Clerics. You didn’t seem to care much for titles then.”

“The Chancellor doesn’t have my respect.” He chuckled. “We should go to the Chantry now, or Sister Leliana will have both our guts for garters. Though I highly doubt the Clerics will be of much help and certainly won’t have changed their minds about you. Sending you to Val Royeaux could be sending you to the headman’s axe.” He seemed rightly agitated by the idea.

“A cheery thought, Commander.” He chucked the coat at Andraea, it landing on her head as she was caught by surprise, and lead the way out of the door, leaving it wide open as he waited for her to don the garment, which she did a lot faster with the night air whisking into her cabin.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming. No need to let all the heat out of my room.” She hurried over to the door where he stood and gave him a little nudge. The paths around Haven were occupied by people heading either to their residencies or the tavern. Varric was not at his usual spot and Andraea assumed he was one in the tavern. “How were things while I was away?” She asked the Commander.

“The recruits are coming along faster than I had expected, but they’re not ready for a real fight yet. And we keep getting more volunteers or refugees coming. I am thankful I have officers like Rylen and Lysette to assist me. Haven’s no fortress but it serves our purpose for the time being.” He walked with his hands clasped behind his back. “How was your trip to the Hinterlands? The reports say you ran into some trouble with the mage-Templar conflict and encountered some rifts.”

“Don’t forget the bears, Commander. Big, angry bears.” She saw his shadow shift in the torchlight and chuckled.

“What?”

“The fur on your shoulders makes your shadow look bear-ish. I was afraid I might have to fend for my life without my sword.” He chuckled with her.

“I assure you I have no intention of mauling an unarmed woman, Andraea. But perhaps in the morning, we might show the recruits what a fight really entails?” She could see the smirk play across his face, accentuated by the scar on his lip.

“Are you sure, Commander? I wouldn’t want to undermine you in front of your troops.” She smirked back.

“I shan’t hold back then, Lady Trevelyan. Ouch!” She punched the exposed section of his arm playfully as they reached the Chantry doors. He went to open them for her, but she beat him to it and held them open for him.

“My lord!” She said, dramatically bowing him through.

“I believe one of those bears may have clocked you on the head, My Lady.” She straightened up and walked beside him to the war room.

“Good, you’ve arrived. We can begin discussing our plan of action for Val Royeaux.” Leliana said, gesturing the two of them in.

“Having the Herald address the Clerics is not a terrible idea.” Josephine stated, scribbling on her board but Cullen scoffed as he took his place on the other side of the table.

“You can’t be serious?”

“Mother Giselle is not wrong; At the moment, the Chantry’s only strength is that they are united in opinion.” Josephine elaborated.

“And we should just ignore the danger to the Herald?” Leliana challenged.

“Let’s ask _her_.” Josephine retorted, looking at Andraea.

“I’m more concerned this won’t actually _solve_ an of our problems.” She replied.

“I agree. It just lends credence to the idea we should care what the Chantry says.” Cullen confirmed, sharing a look very briefly with Andraea.

“And I’d rather not end up in another dungeon waiting for the Clerics to decide I’m guilty and lop my head off. I’m rather attached to it.”

“I will go with her.” Cassandra stepped forward, sensing an impending argument and shutting it off quickly. “Mother Giselle provided us with names. Use them.” She said to Leliana, who looked perplexed.

“But why? This is nothing but a-”

“What choice do we have, Leliana?” Cassandra’s voice had risen. “Right now, we can’t approach anyone for help with the Breach. Use what influence we have to call the Clerics together. Once they are ready, we will see this through.” Her tone left no room for further discussion.

“As you wish, Seeker Penterghast.” With the meeting adjourned, the spymaster, ambassador and Seeker took their leave to their shared room to the right of the war room, while Andraea and the Commander headed for the doors, Cullen lagging behind a little.

“Is everything alright, Commander?” Andraea asked, stopping just short of the door so he could catch up.

“Yes, I- I merely disagree with this course of action.”

“For someone who was once a Templar, you don’t have a lot of _faith_ in the Chantry.” She pointed out, opening one of the doors for him, grimacing at the cold air.

“Why do you think I left the Order?”

“Not enough fur on the uniforms? Didn’t like the skirts?”

“No wonder you get on so well with Varric.” He grumbled. She held up her arms.

“What can I say? I’m funny.” He grunted in response and ran his hand through his hair. “Speaking of Varric, I believe his loving pet name for you is Curly. I assume you can tell me why that is?”

“Curse that dwarf. I have no idea why he’s chosen that name.”

“So… your hair gets as neat as that all on its own?” She had a mischievous smile and glint in her eyes. He rubbed his neck, something she was noticing he did when he was mildly uncomfortable or nervous.

“Well, no, not entirely.” She laughed.

“I’ll be sure not to mess it up _too_ much in our spar tomorrow, Commander.” She teased.

“Cullen.” He said softly. She looked up at him. “Just Cullen. When it’s not a formal situation.”

“Alright, Cullen.” They were quiet for a few more paces. “What about ‘the Lion of Ferelden’? Which Orlesian arse did you have to save to get that name?” She turned so she was walking backwards, hands behind her back as she talked to him.

“My helmet resembles a lion and the moniker stuck. _I_ do not call myself that.” He sighed exasperatedly.

“A lion? Shouldn’t it be a Mabari or something? Since you’re Fereldan.”

“And encourage the stereotype that all Fereldans are ‘dog lords’? Besides, a Mabari is a sign of Fereldan nobility.”

“They’re also a sign of good character.” She reminded him in a matter-of-fact tone. He seemed bashful suddenly and rubbed his neck again. Winding him up was so easy. And entertaining to boot. She arched her eyebrow and grinned. “What about the ‘Rose of Honnleath’?” She let it roll off her tongue tauntingly.

“Andraste preserve me.” He rested his head in his hand, shaking side to side slowly, but there was a small smile beneath it. Andraea, with her back facing the way she was going, hadn’t paid attention to where exactly she was, and the ground was suddenly not there as she reached the top of the steps. She felt herself falling backwards, flailing her arms clumsily and the resorting to bracing for the harsh impact of stone corners. But she stopped as suddenly as she had started, a strong arm in the small of her back, pushing or perhaps pulling her upright. “Are you alright? You should be more careful.”

“I’m… Fine.” She said bewildered, still processing what had happened.

“It serves you right for fixating on nicknames instead of looking where you were going.” Cullen’s smug grin caught her eye. His arm had withdrawn slightly but not completely, his hand still resting on her back.

“Hey! Curly! Bright-eyes!” Andraea turned, Cullen’s hand falling away, to see Varric staggering their way from the tavern, clearly inebriated. “Out for another stroll in the moonlight?” His words were slurred as he reached them and threw his arm around Andraea’s shoulders when she bent down so he didn’t have to look up and fall over. “This girl here! You need to come to the tavern and play Wicked Grace! You too, curly! I heard some of the girls in there talking about what dreamy eyes you…” He hiccupped. “Have.”

“Maker’s breath.”

“Are you drunk, Varric?” Andraea chuckled. He shook his head vigorously.

“Naw, I’m just a little merry!” He near enough shouted the last word. “Aw, you should’ve heard the girls in there, Curly. The things they’d do to you. Hey, should we go get them? I’ll go get them, c’mon.”

“Alright, master dwarf, you need bed.” Andraea said at the mortified expression on Cullen’s very red face. She took his hand and lead him over to his tent. “Wow, Varric, you can hardly walk straight. Lie down and dream of… I don’t know, gold or women. Whatever you like. We’ll talk about Curly’s bedding options in the morning.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Bright-eyes.” And he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Cullen was still waiting for her at the top of the steps, and still bright red.

“Do me a favour and send someone to wake him up really early and really loudly. And make sure he knows I send my regards.” She grinned wickedly.

“I’ll have Jim do it on his morning rounds.” Cullen chuckled, some of the redness going as they descended the stairs. “So Varric calls you Bright-eyes? No need to ask for an explanation there.”

“Yes, it’s fresh today. Just after we got back.” They reached the bottom of the steps and turned to each other. “This is farewell until our spar tomorrow, Cullen. Just before lunch I believe is a good time.”

“As you wish, Andraea. I will try to make your defeat a gracious one.”

“Boasting, Commander? I didn’t know you could do such a thing. You’ll eat those words tomorrow. Sleep well.” She waved him off as she walked back to her cabin, grinning like an idiot, and all too happy to snuggle under her blankets. She would miss them when she remembered to tell Josephine to alter her accommodations.

***

Morning came and Andraea was left to sleep in for a change, not that she could, so used to getting up early as she was after the past week of rising with the sun. But this time the sun rose before she did. As far as she knew she had no duties to attend to, only the fight with the Commander later in the morning so she spent her time cleaning the armour Harritt had made for her, getting all of the caked in mud and blood out of the crevices where it could eat away the leather or rust the joints. She was no novice in caring for her armour. She also stripped down to observe the damage where the leather straps had rubbed into her for the past week. Angry red marks where the skin had been worn away or else blisters that had not yet popped or ripped. Her years travelling the wilds meant she was no stranger to this pain and tolerated it well enough, but she had become quite proficient at making an effective salve out of elfroot and dabbed it over the worst abrasions, sealing it with cloth strips. It left a cool, tingling numbness over the sore skin and allowed her to don her armour without much irritation; It may only be a sparring match against the Commander but he would undoubtedly be wearing his armour as he always did and it meant they could hit harder. It would be interesting to fight against a former captain and commander of the Templar order. They would be using sparring swords and shields of course, still able to break the skin on a good hit, but not at a risk of severing limbs. Andraea secured the last strap of her armour and headed out, the wind low and the sun lighting up the sky behind the thin overcast of cloud, making the sky almost white, except for the contrasting black of the swirling billows surrounding the great, green tear in the sky.

“Good morning, Bright-eyes!” Varric waved at her. “Where you off to before noon? Thought you’d be enjoying the comforts of a good sleep while you can.”

“I could say the same to you, Varric. I recall you had quite the stagger last night.” She grinned coyly at him and he chuckled, smirking ruefully.

“Funny thing, crack of dawn this morning I get a young soldier tipping a bucket of cold water on my head.”

“Doesn’t sound very funny, who would do such a thing?” She feigned innocence.

“See, the funny part is that I was informed the wake-up call was a courtesy of our illustrious Herald of Andraste herself.”

“Really? Not very benevolent of them was it. I’ll have to write a formal complaint to Josephine on the matter.” Varric chuckled again.

“Pretend you’re different people all you want, _Herald_ , I’ll get even.” He pointed two fingers at his eyes and the at hers. “Now correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe between the hazy mess of drinking, cards and vomiting in my tent, I ran into you and Curly on another moonlit stroll.”

“Yes, my willing accomplice after you bullied him with talk of swooning barmaids.” He snorted.

“Seems like you two are getting rather friendly.” He raised his eyebrows twice in tandem.

“Considering I’m about to go hit him with a big lump of metal, I would question your judgement.” She laughed. Varric’s eyes lit up and a big grin spread wide across his face.

“You versus Curly? Oh, this I gotta see!” And he accompanied her out of Haven’s gates and ran off to tell Cassandra and sit beside a tent to watch, the Seeker standing behind him as curious as he was about who the victor would be, though not as openly excited; He had a quill and small booklet ready in his hands. Andraea rolled her eyes as she approached the Commander. He greeted her with a smile and a curt nod.

“Ah, you’re here for our match, yes? Good.” He turned to address his trainees. “At ease. Take a rest and watch. You won’t be fighting green recruits out there; you’ll be fighting trained soldiers. The Herald and I will show you what you could be up against.” He walked over to a weapon rack as he spoke, picking up two swords and two wooden shields, walking back over and offering one of each to Andraea before taking up his stance, one she recognised as a Templar habit. “Are you ready?”

“Ready.” She moved forward to meet him, making a testing strike by swinging her sword into his side, which he blocked as she expected, but with his sword rather than the shield, keeping his body protected. He had a very defensive stance Andraea noted, probably preferring to let his opponents wear themselves out against his defence before finishing them. Cullen was a sturdy man, well-built and with heavy armour to help ground him; She would not win by brute force. Luckily, brute force was not her style; she was nimble and pivoted out of the way when Cullen aimed a shield bash at her, bring her sword around towards his shoulder, which he parried. She hopped back to create distance before charging back in with two strikes to his hips, where his chest-plate ended, which he blocked with the lower half of his shield. She immediately brought the pommel against the top half of the shield, knowing his strength was targeted to the lower half, leaving it imbalanced and consequently bashing his own shield against his nose making him grunt and stagger back. It didn’t look as though she’d broken it, it wasn’t even bleeding. She followed up with a sprinting shield bash and a pivoting sweep of her sword but the recoil of her momentum hitting his shield again sent shockwaves up her arm and he pressed forward, making precise strikes. He aimed deliberately for the metal of her armour, reluctant to hurt the ‘Herald of Andraste’ too much. And she would use this hesitance to her advantage. As soon as she could get him off the offensive. He continued to press forward, replacing his sword with his shield he rushed her and the two pressed their shields together, Cullen using his bigger bulk and height advantage to bear down on her. When she was forced to move her foot back to keep balance, he struck with his blade, Andraea only just blocking it with her own. This was exactly the situation she didn’t want to get herself stuck in. There was no way she could push back up from the position she was in but just maybe, if she were quick enough, she could give in to his force and roll away. The sudden lack of resistance caught Cullen off-guard and he stumbled forwards as she dropped and rolled to the side. He was quick to recover and advanced on Andraea again as she was scrambling to get back to her feet. She swept her shield along the trodden down snow and dirt and sent the wet mud straight into her Commander’s face along with the shield and tackled him to the ground, pinning his shield with her knee, and disarming him with her now free hand while holding her sword point at his throat. Cullen looked up at her with one eye closed against the muddy splatter on his face. A chorus of cheers and whoops lead by Varric brought her out of the moment and prompted her to get off her Commander and help him up.

“Well-fought, Herald.” He grumbled as he wiped the mud out of his eye and off his face. She smiled sheepishly. “Back to your drills, soldiers!” He raised his voice but didn’t seem angry about losing the fight. The recruits went about picking up their weapons again and pairing off to spar.

“You too, Commander. Sorry.”

“Well it’s nice to know the Herald of Andraste isn’t above cheap shots and cheating.” He smirked coyly.

“There’s no such thing as cheating when it comes to survival, Commander. But it’s refreshing to see a man who still values a fair and honourable fight.” He rubbed his neck again. “Means there’s still a few buggers I can sucker-punch.” She lightly nudged his arm with her fist.

“Andraste would be so proud.” He commented dryly. “You there! There’s a shield in your hand, block with it! If this man were your enemy, you’d be dead!” He barked at one of the recruits then he turned to talk to one of his officers, handing him the swords and shields. “Lieutenant don’t hold back. The recruits must prepare for a real fight, not a practice one.”

“Yes, Commander.” The officer saluted and went about giving the weapons to new recruits and overseeing the training. The Commander started walking along the tents and gestured for Andraea to accompany him.

“We’ve received a number of recruits, local from Haven and some pilgrims. None made _quite_ the entrance you did.” He raised an eyebrow at her and felt some dried mud crack along his temple.

“That wasn’t _my_ idea.” She grumbled.

“I’d be concerned if it was.” He muttered, scratching the residual mud out of his hairline. “I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall myself. I was there during the Mage uprising; I saw first-hand the devastation it caused.” This made Andraea think. She had almost gone to Kirkwall. Almost been inside the city when the Uprising happened. Would she have perhaps met Cullen as Knight-Captain? Or even when he was Knight-Commander there. It was funny how paths can run so closely together before they meet.

“Sir!” A runner came up behind them and handed Cullen a ledger. He looked it over and approved it without missing a step or a beat in the conversation.

“Cassandra sought a solution. When she offered me the position, I left the Templars to join her cause. Now it seems we face something far worse.” He made it sound so simple but Andraea was aware of how hard it could be to abandon the life you once had.

“You left the Templars, everything you knew, for this. You believe the Inquisition could work?” She asked gently.

“I do. The Chantry lost control of both Templars and Mages. Now they argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains. The Inquisition could act where the Chantry cannot.” He grew impassioned and animated as he spoke. “Our followers would be part of that. There’s _so much_ we can- Forgive me. I doubt you came here for a lecture.” He looked sheepish.

“No, but if you have one prepared, I’d love to hear it.” He laughed.

“Another time, perhaps.” She smiled brightly at him.

“I, uh…” He cleared his throat and looked away over the lake. “There’s still a lot of work ahead.”

“Commander! Ser Rylen has a report on our supply lines.” Another runner came up with another ledger.

“As I was saying.” He gestured to the ledger, taking it and nodding his farewell to Andraea. She noticed the big patch of mud stuck to the back of his head and quickly made her departure, sniggering to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a while, I was moving and then the sparring scene was really blocking me for some reason.


End file.
